Oxford's Tolkien exhibition reveals a man as fascinating as his books

On the surface, the people of the United States and England seem remarkably similar. It takes actually living in the opposite country for the deep divisions to surface. Public expressions of patriotism are a classic example.

An American will fly, wear, sing to or otherwise publicly celebrate their flag at the slightest provocation. There are multiple patriotic holidays decked out with the Stars and Stripes. In England, overt displays of flag waving beyond sporting events or royal occasions are regarded with suspicion. Though this has changed a bit since Queen Elizabeth's Jubilee year and recent Olympic successes, there's still a sense of discomfort amongst many that too much flag waving indicates an affinity with fascism and racism. True English patriotism, I've found, is quieter ... and most likely to be  found outside of the cities.

It's the fierce competition of villages battling it out for Britain in Bloom awards. Intense pride in the local bluebell woods. Generations coming together, dressed in white, to play village cricket. The 2014 government survey found that 83% of the English now live in urban areas, but our sense of patriotism still seems to be indelibly bound up in the countryside.

Perhaps that's why J.R.R. Tolkien is so fiercely beloved by the English. Many readers, after all, see the Shire as a vision of the best of rural England, Sauron and his forces of evil as the opposing troops of rampant industrialism, and hobbits as the stout yeomen of Britain's good old days. You can test that relationship for yourself in an intriguing little exhibition at the Bodleian Library in Oxford. And while a deep knowledge of Middle Earth isn't required ... the notes, charts and maps displayed there give a fascinating insight into how an author constructs a plot, and thus would captivate anyone interested in the art of story telling ... true Tolkien aficionados will be delighted.

Tolkien: Maker of Middle Earth takes a hard look at the man behind the legend. Most people know the basics: Oxford professor of Anglo-Saxon and English literature, fanatical about detail down to creating his own languages, father of the whole genre of epic fantasy fiction. Here we learn about his childhood, education, military years, family life, sparkling sense of humour and creativity far beyond his writing.

I had not realised that Tolkien was a talented artist who created the instantly-recognisable original cover for The Hobbit. His artwork was my favourite part of the show. There's a gorgeous set of scenes from the Lord of The Rings that clearly influenced Peter Jackson. Wonderful designs for Elvish jewels and writhing dragons. Illustrations from a series of Christmas stories on the wanderings of Santa that he wrote for his children. Doodles scrawled on newspaper margins and over crosswords that show how he never stopped creating. I'm amazed that some design house hasn't picked up on his work for a range of wallpapers and decorative fabrics; there's luscious stuff here.

And there are maps. Lots of maps. With all this evidence of how visual a person he was, it makes even more sense that the map ... now a cliche of fantasy epics ... was a beautifully detailed foundation stone of Middle Earth. Some here are finished products meant for readers, some working documents, all beautiful. If you have any doubt about the professor's obsession with detail, witness the rigorous creation, on graph paper, of exact scales drawn from a measurement system based on the length of a hobbit's toenail. No distance traveled in a day in the books will ever be further than the creatures he created could actually go. In addition to the Tolkien-drawn originals, there are a couple of digital maps that let you explore different characters' journeys in the different books. The best takes advantage of video projection to cast the landscape in 3D and have shadows shrink and grow off the mountain ranges as time passes.

There's also a fun, life-sized projection of the gates of Moria at the entry to the show, setting the mood that you're about to enter a world of magic, and a big, projected Smaug dancing across the floor once you're in the gallery. Several sound stations invite you to don headphones to explore details like getting your Elvish pronunciation right. But most of the exhibitions are quite old school: peering through glass at preserved documents. It's also remarkably small: just one gallery. I would have loved more. A gallery, for example, on the cultural influences (old Anglo-Saxon, Icelandic, Medieval, etc.) that Tolkien drew on, another on the vast cultural impact that his creations have sparked.

But that's not the point here. As you would expect from a combination of the rigorously controlled Tolkien Trust and the university associated with the author for most of his adult life, everything here is tightly focused on the man and his creative processes, and drawn from the two organisations' archives. In a world where so many blockbuster exhibitions overwhelm you with their scope, I suppose it's no bad thing to visit one that leaves you hungry for more. And, delightfully, it's free. You just need to pre-book tickets here.

For a more overt display of patriotism, we were back at the Highclere Battle Proms the next weekend. They were celebrating their 100th concert that night (they do about five a summer). It was only our sixth. The formula doesn't change much. People queue up from about 2:30 for gates to open at 4, then it's a mad rush to claim a spot on the broad lawns in front of the house the world knows better as Downton Abbey. In addition to flag-waving patriotism, the English get to display their flair for competitive picnicking: there are a lot of tablecloths, candelabras and fine food and wine coming out of well-stocked hampers. Over the years my husband has been bitten by the competitive bug, steadily upgrading our kit so that we look like traders setting out to conquer the Silk Road as we queue up for entry. Though he's generally happy with the set up, I suspect our two poles with their English, British Army, Danish and American flags will be tweaked before next year. They weren't flying highly or proudly enough.

The show doesn't change much. Historical re-enactors (usually Regency) set up at the far corner. There are some cavalry displays in the late afternoon. Music starts with a WW2-era group. There's a rousing Spitfire flyover. Then a two-part classical concert that's always much the same. But who ever really tires of the 1812 Overture with real cannon, Beethoven's Battle Symphony with fireworks and mass sing-alongs of Jerusalem and Land of Hope and Glory?

A groaning buffet and bar kept people going throughout the afternoon and evening. Pork pies, sausage rolls and crisps. Coronation chicken, chicken and wild mushroom terrine, roasted carrot salad, potato salad, insalata caprese. (Potatoes and tomatoes all from my garden.) Key lime cheesecake and cheese board. Free-flowing wine, and blackcurrant squash for the designated drivers and children.

It was a spread that would gain even a hungry hobbit's approval. I suspect Tolkien would have enjoyed the whole evening. And I'd love to see how he would have painted it.