Volunteering: A Great British Passion – By Hemantha Yapa Abeywardena
“You have the right to work only, but never to its fruits. Let not the fruits of action be your motive, nor let your attachment be to inaction.”
– Bhagavad Gita –
On a crisp Wednesday morning (because of course it’s not truly spring without a hint of frost), I bumped into a squad of, shall we say, seasoned volunteers at a vast nature reserve in West London.
These weren’t your average park-walkers. This was a well-oiled machine of British courtesy, all smiles and “good mornings” in unison. They were there to tackle the park’s spring to-do list: grass-cutting, wheelbarrowing, and turning it all into a rather posh horse salad. Teamwork flowed like tea on a wet Wednesday, with a designated leader calling the shots (including the sacrosanct tea break, because priorities).
“You missed a corker on Monday,” one chimed in, a twinkle in her eye. “We had proper horses doing the mowing! Old-fashioned and all that.” Now that’s a visual I’d have paid good money (or maybe a leftover biscuit) to see!
Mud-caked boots and gloves were their badges of honour. These weren’t folks afraid to get their hands dirty, and their garden overalls offered a certain, ahem, rustic charm. But don’t be fooled by the attire. Chat with them, and you’ll find refined wit bubbling up faster than a kettle on the boil. Retired civil servants, military veterans, doctors – you name it, this crew had probably done it all. Now, they were giving back to nature, a way of saying thanks for everything from the morning dew to, well, maybe even the Big Bang.
Imagine if the council had to pay for all this? It’d cost a king’s ransom! But these volunteers, bless their cotton socks, are the lifeblood of keeping these green spaces ship-shape. It’s a quintessentially British tradition, this volunteering lark. As the temperature climbs (slowly, because, it is Britain), so does the spirit of volunteerism across the land.
And let’s not forget the wildlife! Bee havens were carefully crafted, with designated “don’t touch” patches where wildflowers could go gloriously rogue. It’s a win-win for everyone, even the creepy-crawlies.
So, how does one become a volunteer? Well, it’s not a walk in the park (although, with this group, it might be!). There might be an interview involved, perhaps a test on your scone-dodging abilities (jam-related incidents are a national security risk, after all) or folding a tea towel with military precision. But fear not, a firm handshake and a mumbled “Lovely weather, isn’t it?” should see you through.
The pinnacle of British volunteering, however, is the tea break. A sacred ritual involving steaming mugs and a generous offering to any passer-by in need of a “cuppa.” Mastering the art of the “just a splash of milk, thanks” is key, though a side of gossip about, say, the latest antics involving Elizabeth Hurley and her son, may be practically attractive.
Volunteering has snowballed into a national treasure, a badge of honour that goes beyond good deeds. It shows you’re a well-rounded human, not just a bookworm or a nerd. Universities and employers are all on the bandwagon, looking for well-balanced applicants with a healthy dose of do-goodery on their CVs. It’s a win-win, really, except maybe for the “bone idle”.
So, there you have it, volunteering: a very British way to keep busy, help others, and avoid disappointing anyone who might think you’re a loafer.
Maybe it’s hight time the UK started exporting its fantastic volunteering spirit – like a cultural gift basket for countries, where giving back hasn’t quite caught on yet.
