How to spot someone from Hampshire
We’re quite outdoors-y
Hampshire is quiet, rural, and frankly just a bit weird. Hampshire folk are an eclectic mix of Dorset and Surrey, of farmer and estate owner, and can’t decide which part of them they’d prefer to showcase. People from the ‘shire are constantly reminded of neighbouring Surrey’s self-acclaimed superior status, and are always trying to usurp them on some level, be that through the incredible number of Barbours they own or through the numerous Instagrams of their new Volvo. This is how to spot someone from the Green County.
They try to look like they’re from the countryside
When it comes to overpriced imitation farm attire, Hampshire people know what’s up. Joules, Barbour, Hunter – you name it, they’re wearing it. Yummy mummies and their babies parade around the high streets clad in their finest jillets, but if you put most of them on an actual farm they’ll probably just be fascinated to know that’s where chickens come from.
Their children are raised on Babyccinos
Hampshire mummies have a bizarre obsession with this chic drink for their toddlers. It sounds very glamorous for something that in reality is just the frothed up remains from the bottom of the milk jug. It’s just warm milk, but somehow Hampshire people find a way to make even this pretentious.
They know Paultons Park was THE place to go on a bank holiday
It still is the ultimate family day out. While the mums take the babies go to the park’s Peppa Pig World, the dads and the more brave hearted 10 year olds take on the log flume and perhaps the least terrifying rollercoaster in existence: The Cobra.
They know how to Maypole because it was mandatory in primary school
Every May the teacher’s would sit you down and say those magic words, “Today in PE, we’re going to be something a little different.” Next thing you know you’re partnered with Snotty George and getting into arguments with Kimmy over who’s turn it was to go over, and whether you had to skip or walk the routine. In theory, this whole debacle was supposed to result in a beautifully plaited maypole, but always just ended in a knotty mess of tears and sprained ankles.
They go mad for county shows
Hampshire people will take any chance to pop the labradors in the back of the Volvo and drive out to a muddy county show. Here they can pretend they know their shit when inspecting the cattle presumably shipped in from Dorset, and have a chance to actually use their Hunters. They’ll be found sipping a Pimm’s whilst watching the showjumping, because Dom is just overpriced.
They all know the horror of Jesters nightclub
Everyone who grew up in Hampshire has made the sacred pilgrimage to Jesters, the Mecca of all revolting clubs. They’ve been to the two-bicle, they’ve downed a Jesticle, and they’ve run away on the dancefloor from a grotty Southampton rugby boy. It’s a rite of passage and one we never want to go through again.
They hate the eyesore that is the IOW
You can’t go to the beach without having to just sit and stare at that lump of rock sitting on the horizon. Hampshire people know that there’s no escaping this blip in their vision, hence the invention of windbreaks. Just screen it off and pretend it’s not there, then focus on trying to see France instead.
They know it’s mandatory to stop the car to stroke the New Forest Ponies
Every Hampshire gal knows the ponies are just irresistible, and even if slamming the breaks on every time you see one might end in aggy drivers and a few scratched bumpers, it’s definitely worth it for the snapchat.
They hate Surrey
Fuck Surrey and their home county status.