In case you hadn't noticed it in the general rush and tear of our modern life, it was our patron saint's day last week.

No, I am not referring to St David Beckham of blessed memory, nor to his near-rival St Bobby Zamora.

I am talking about St George, the patron saint of England, no less. I would hazard a guess that had the story of the gentleman who, very patriotically in my view, hung the cross of St George up at his window and got into hot water for doing so, not hit the news in The Argus, most of you would have let the day go totally unremarked.

What that says about our attitude to our patron saint I'm not sure but it was good to see at least one person had realised what April 23 was famous for.

It was also Shakespeare's birthday but then he was only a playwright, not a footballer, and so is not worthy of much interest these days.

But I would hazard a guess that a fair number of the Third Age would have known about both St George and Shakespeare.

When I was young many gentlemen wore button holes of red roses on St George's Day, rather like the Irish Guards who were presented with shamrocks by the Queen Mother on St Patrick's Day.

The Welsh Guards wore daffodils or leeks and no one would have dared to challenge their right to do so. But I am not aware of any floral arrangements for St George.

Mind you, he would have a job finding a suitable regiment when you look at the dog's dinner they have made of the Army by joining up some unlikely bedfellows. But it is hard to determine why the English seem so reluctant to celebrate a national saint's day.

Try telling the French that they cannot celebrate Bastille Day and you would probably get a very garlic-laden reply.

I'm not sure what the Germans celebrate, other than Oktoberfest, but I'm sure they sing "Deutschland, Deutschland, uber alles" with great gusto at some do or other.

We used to keep Empire Day when I was at school and parade around the Union Flag and sing the Rudyard Kipling hymn The Recessional.

Now we have no empire we have no excuse for a knees-up. But still no national saint's day.

If you live in north London and are still sober at the end of St Patrick's Day, you'll be told you are no true Irishman and that bonny Scot, St Andrew, likes his fellow countrymen to get legless on November 30.

He would have done better to try for Scotland since he was born there and didn't get to the Emerald Isle till he was 16 years old.

He is in good company since there is no evidence that St George ever set foot in England but he has become English by absorption. Probably easier than using the Channel Tunnel route!

But to get back to the flag in the window. Considering the appalling uses to which the cross of St George and the Union Flag are put, to judge by the football louts as seen on TV wearing underpants, vests and other miscellaneous bits of clothing fashioned from our national emblem, I can see little to object to in the use of the flag as window curtains. It looks better than being draped over a beer belly.

Perhaps we should start a campaign for general recognition of St George as our national saint, pick a nice summer day as his day and enjoy another public holiday and invite the other saints to join us.

Birmingham has started the ball rolling this year by putting up a large inflatable dragon. As far as I am aware, as yet, no St George, but it is a step in the right direction.

We could copy Birmingham and make it part of our pitch for the European City of Culture.

The trouble is the councillors would probably want to use a seagull - somehow it hasn't got the same ring to it.

St George and the Seagull - hmmm! Back to the drawing board!