Alan Titchmarsh: ‘Being from Yorkshire is akin to being English with knobs on’
To celebrate this week's 'English Issue', six individuals reflect on what being English means to them. Last but not least, Country Life's very own Alan Titchmarsh.
Being English means always having to say I’m sorry. I apologise to the doctor for bothering him, even if parts of my body are falling off. I say sorry if I bump into somebody. I even find myself apologising to the table if I bump into it — it’s ridiculous, but it’s a small price to pay for being English.
Being English to me means knowing my country from top to bottom, side to side. I’m grateful that broadcasting and writing, gardening and giving talks have taken me all over England. I have visited every county. ‘No one comes to Spalding,’ said the couple whose garden I was making over. I did. I can conjure up a mental picture of Norfolk and Cumbria, Dorset and Kent, Leicestershire and Northumberland and I’m pleased about that, not proud. I can’t actually give voice to the words ‘I’m proud of myself’. It’s a phrase that has, so far, never passed my lips. My parents would have had no truck with such a sentiment. ‘Pride comes before a fall’ — it’s simply too smug.
'Being English means believing that to take my job seriously is imperative, but to take myself seriously is disastrous'
Being from Yorkshire is akin to being English with knobs on. There is pride, I admit, in being from a county that is so beautiful even if, at times, it is a little too strident about its own individuality. I cherish the story of the Yorkshireman who went walking on the moors during the covid lockdown. It’s said he bumped into God, who was taking a stroll among the heather, and asked: ‘What are you doing here?’ ‘Working from home,’ replied God.
Being English means believing that to take my job seriously is imperative, but to take myself seriously is disastrous. It means being embarrassed about doing too well. The aim at school was to blend in; to be 15th in a class of 30, to be happy finishing well down the field in anything sporty and to sing in a choir rather than performing solo. I was small at school (I’m only 5ft 8in now) and soon learned that being funny would distract the bully about to floor me, as it’s difficult to land a punch when you’re laughing.
I like my tea strong and my aftershave weak. I polish my leather shoes and keep a clean handkerchief in my left-hand trouser pocket. For my dad, being English meant going to a Chinese restaurant and ordering a mixed grill. A plumber, he would visit the house of a customer in a jacket and tie, topped with a flat cap, which would be taken off as he crossed the threshold. Period-drama directors, please note.
Being English means I must always walk on the outside of the pavement when accompanied by a woman. Should we cross the road, she will wonder what the dickens I’m doing as I take a sidestep behind her to reposition. I will open a door to allow her through in front of me and offer her my seat on a crowded train. It’s good manners. I’m English. Sorry.
For what being English means to Tom Parker Bowles, click here
For what being English means to Sir John Major, click here
This feature originally appeared in the June 10, 2026, issue of Country Life. Click here for more information on how to subscribe
