We're a funny lot, us Brits. We like cricket, gravy, the Shipping Forecast, having a good whinge and queuing. But perhaps the thing that marks us as oddest in the world of food is our delight in making jam out of bitter oranges. Though its origin is near the Mediterranean, it was us that took marmalade to our hearts centuries ago and the peak of its popularity in the last century - a jar of marmalade featured on every British breakfast table. But times change. Year by year, we're told, we're falling out of love with marmalade. We're spending more on jams, honey, peanut butter and chocolate gloop. And the final insult, the under-25s have labelled it - boring. The kids, it seems, are no longer down with marmalade. You would think the British love affair was over. But marmalade fanciers are not gonna go soft into that good night. As the wily tacticians they are, they've chosen a spot, are forming a square and show every sign of putting up a superbly British last stand. Dalemain, remember that name. To some, it's a stately Georgian pile in Cumbria, home of an annual marmalade festival and awards. To posterity, to marmalade lovers of the future, the name of Dalemain will have the same power as Rorke's Drift.
