My Life

My Life - Oswald Mosleycurious that these relatively simple discoveries were not made sooner; only in recentyears has the question of diet been seriously studied.Sleep, the second great need of humanity, was also neglected by scientific researchuntil quite lately. Conclusions on that subject in my youth were the purely empiricaldeductions of practical men. I owe much to the chance that in my first year in theHouse of Commons two remarkable old gentlemen - as they appeared to the youngestmember - gave me the same advice: always to sleep some time between the middayand the evening meal. One adviser was Lloyd George, and the other Churchill; I tooktheir advice, and am convinced this is one of the chief reasons why I am now aliveand very fit after such a strenuous life. Most modern doctors now take the same view.Life at Rolleston was a matter of instinct rather than of science; we were very close tonature. My grandfather had a prize-winning shorthorn herd, and was one of thecountry's leading authorities on shorthorns and shire horses. I was saturated with thefarming tradition, lived in it, enjoyed it, and I still do. We were of the earth earthy,and I am glad of it. It is one of my deepest convictions that these roots in the soil are avery fine start to life. This calm existence rolled on at a leisurely pace. Farming stockand method had been built over long years, and the skilled men had often been therefor generations. They formed one of the established institutions which, short ofdisaster, are relatively easy to conduct; what is difficult is to create new things.Everything was well run in, and managed with a stately ritual. My grandfather musthave done a lot of work in his little office in a quiet corner of the large house and inhis frequent inspections, but to us children the highlight of his efforts and successesshone on Sunday mornings. After church came a visit to the home farm. The wholewell-ordered parade must occur between church and luncheon, so a watch would beostentatiously examined if the sermon continued long enough to keep the men onemoment from the Sunday dinner or to risk turning our own beef from pink to brown.Life had its rules, and the Sunday beef was a very serious affair indeed. Placed infront of my grandfather on an enormous dish was always a sirloin of four-year-oldbeef, whose breadth still makes all modern fare look puny. Then came the solemnmoment when - carving-knife poised in hand - my grandfather recited the pedigreeand recounted the many virtues of the dual-purpose shorthorn breed.It is perhaps not surprising in the light of these recollections that my grandfatherlooked the image of the traditional John Bull, which became his nickname in widecircles. He was in his way almost a national figure. Among his numerous contactswith the world outside this completely self-contained enclave of existence were astrangely assorted couple, King Edward VII and Lord Northcliffe. The King saw himsometimes at agricultural shows, and was evidently attracted and entertained by hissterling character. One of his letters expressed a desire to lean over a gate with mygrandfather contemplating a rural scene - the King's tact was as diverse as hisamusement - and an immense signed photograph was always displayed with loyalpride.Lord Northcliffe’ s intrusion into the country paradise was not so much appreciated asthe political support given to me many years later by his brother, Lord Rothermere.Wholemeal bread became a stunt in the Daily Mail under the name of Standard bread.The startling discovery that such a substance existed was made in the forgotten villageof Rolleston, where John Bull himself had installed the old stone rollers. The story11 of 424