The new year is almost upon us, and it’s time to dust off the taffeta dress and tartan sash and sally forth to the annual reel. No doubt you will have received a lovely stiffy in the post some months ago. Reeling, known to neophytes and the non-U as Scottish country dancing, is, I believe, one of the last indicators of poshness in this country. Unlike skiing, riding or shooting – which you can, of course, learn if you have enough money – reeling is decidedly not about the dosh.
There is absolutely nothing flash about reeling. It’s the entertainment equivalent of an old Barbour
While it is true that those who own the biggest estates in the country go in for reeling, its aesthetic is one of pared-down utility: a back hall in a grand house or a church basement, a band of local fiddlers and a piece of dry chicken for supper followed by a crumble and some bad plonk to wash it all down.
Get Britain's best politics newsletters
Register to get The Spectator's insight and opinion straight to your inbox. You can then read two free articles each week.
Already a subscriber? Log in
Comments
Join the debate for just $5 for 3 months
Be part of the conversation with other Spectator readers by getting your first three months for $5.
UNLOCK ACCESS Just $5 for 3 monthsAlready a subscriber? Log in