Citizen of Somewhere

I watched the BBC transmission of the The Last Night of the Proms on television a few weeks back.  I was so affected by the coverage that I searched out the appropriate Twitter conversation and added my two-pennyworth to the extent that I had found the whole thing a vomit-inducing, self-indulgent, vicarious victim-fest.  In particular, the sea of spontaneous EU flag waving, the blue and gold-starred costumes and the rainbow flags in every camera shot seemed to indicate a production agenda rather than add anything to the cultural basis of the programme.   So I was somewhat reluctant to book tickets for “Last Night at the Proms featuring the Grimethorpe Colliery Band” at the Royal Hall in Harrogate.  Even though the mood had been cheered by news, that afternoon, that the Prime Minister had concluded an agreement with the EU about leaving the EU, I still had worries about the potential tone of the evening.   Perhaps I feared some sort of “Brassed Off” anti-Thatcher social lecture but I could not have been more wrong.  Following an excellent early supper at Gianni’s (top tip – the early bird menu is superb value) we took our seats in the magnificent Royal Hall.  Marie Curie, for whom the whole event was all about, rightly, took some time to remind us of the wonderful work they do but we were soon into the musical programme with Grimethorpe on tip-top form.  Katy Kelly and Philip Wilcox accompanied by Ewan Gifford delighted with some extracts from Mozart and Puccini before Grimethorpe concluded the first half with Londonderry Air and a stirring finale of Tale of the Dragon.

After the interval the audience joined in singing with, We’ll Gather Lilacs, White Cliffs of Dover and We’ll Meet again and then, after another stirring piece from Grimethorpe, we were into the finale of Rule Britannia, Jerusalem and Pomp and Circumstance.  By this time the audience appeared thoroughly enthused and stood and waved flags with vigorous abandon – looking around, the auditorium was full of red white and blue banners.  Oddly, there were no EU flags – they were all Union Flags apart from a solitary Welch standard.  Whether we had all been affected by some sort of collective sub-conscious relief that we might, finally, be moving forward after three and a half  years of Brexit prevarication I could not know but perhaps the cautious optimism of the afternoon’s news added to the occasion?  It certainly felt, as we stood before an honour guard of the Royal Lancers and sang the National Anthem, that we were citizens of somewhere.