We're eating out...

The credit crunch has led to a rise in the popularity of the picnic - especially in one Shropshire beauty spot.

Out comes the blanket. Out come the cucumber sandwiches. And out come the flies, the wasps, the midges and the rest of Mother Nature's creations that come out of the woodwork to gatecrash the Great British picnic.

But this is all part of the experience. We are in the great outdoors after all, where everything is fair game and for all creatures great and small the food chain now includes a nice packed lunch and the promise of a can of Lilt.

With Ironbridge Gorge named as Warburton's best picnic location in the West Midlands and now vying for a picnic pitch in the national final, I find myself doing the English thing: wearing flannels and eating buns and butties down by the river.

Evidently picnicking is growing in popularity because on a balmy Saturday afternoon, the picnic benches at Dale End in the Gorge are at a premium. It's like McDonald's with slower food.

At one point there's even a small queue for benches and there's this funny little thing that waiting picnickers do, where we hover with the flies and swoop as soon as another picnic party looks as though it's on its final mouthful of Victoria sponge cake.

Finally I get a bench, and, retrieving various sized Tupperware containers from my tweed picnic bag, I proceed to tuck in to my packed lunch. It's a pathetic solo effort: a medley of dry cheese sandwiches (with the crusts removed) washed down by a not-so-nice cup of lukewarm tea from a battered thermos flask from my Boys' Brigade days.

But it's not really about the grub, this picnic malarky; it's as much about the company you keep, and for me that means several bumble bees and some swallows (I think), fantastically tranquil sound effects from the River Severn, and the potential for a kick-about with a football.

I join a lovely family from Shrewsbury and an au pair from Holland who are having a lazy picnic by the water's edge.

Now, mum Ruth Yewlett loves a picnic and has a reputation with the pastime that precedes her.

"I was called the picnic queen once because I love organising picnics," Ruth smiles taking sandwiches from a wicker basket and setting them out for her children.

"And the kids love it too. When I told the children we were having a picnic today they were jumping up and down on the bed.

"It's good to be outdoors and it's cheap. It takes us back to the simple things in life and Ironbridge is wonderful for having a picnic."

Her kids – Rebecca, 4, Matthew, 3, and David, 2 – do as kids do and eat as they play: one bite of a cheese butty, one kick of a football; another bite of a butty, one throw of a stick.

Ruth continues: "I always had picnics as a child, mainly because it cost too much to eat out, but it's great fun. I'm very pro-picnics." And little Rebecca adds: "I like it because we can play and it's an adventure."

Au pair Gerina van Pykeren, who is staying with the Yewletts but not working for them, is clearly impressed with the British passion for picnics, saying: "We had picnics in Holland but I think the British like their picnics more.

"And this location in a green field by the river is marvellous."

And so it is that Ironbridge gets the international proxy vote for picnic spot of the year too.

It's been a while since I've been on a picnic, I must admit. I've become more of sandwiches-in-a-layby man. And that's if a Little Chef isn't winking at me from a billboard with a tray full of fast food.

But as the Severn babbles by and the birds twitter in the birthplace of industry, I crack open my thermos flask and toast a British institution that has had to fight for its life after coming under threat from alternative al fresco eating habits such as the Australian barbecue.

And I wonder: why have we forgotten to make our own packed lunches and have our own fun? Is it because it's become too easy to have everything organised for us by all-weather tourist destinations and ball parks?

But it's good to see that a resurgence in popularity means the Great British picnic is alive and kicking, as is the obligatory game of football with jumpers for goalposts and French cricket with shins for wickets.

Even my bland butties and weak tea taste fine in Mother Nature's eaterie. It must be the secret ingredient which, when added to the food and drink, makes everything taste sweet as pie. And that secret ingredient is the surroundings. Even flies, accidentally swallowed, taste better in the green and pleasant surroundings of the Gorge.

The picnic feels primal, hunter-gather-ish, even if I did get all my ingredients from Somerfield.

It also seems very British and, for all the eating while playing with sticks and spiders, quite refined.

I observe as other picnickers come and go, the picnic being part of something greater in the big day out in the Gorge.

It's mainly families and older couples, but it's heartening to report evidence of the future generation of picnickers – a group of teenage BMX bikers who, between bunny hops, are tucking into an enviable spread that includes buns and a bumper pack of Monster Munch.

As it throws down its picnic blanket for the national final, Ironbridge Gorge finds itself up against Milton Country Park in Cambridgeshire, Sewerby Hall in Yorkshire and Richmond Park in London for the coveted title of Britain's best picnic site 2009.

Judging by our picnic today, however, the Gorge could pack 'em up in a wicker basket and eat them all for lunch.

By Ben Bentley

• To vote for Ironbridge log on to www.welovebread.co.uk