Returning to England after the forced absence of lockdowns, I read this passage in a newspaper:
"Every time I return to England from abroad, the country seems a little more run-down than when I went away; its streets a little shabbier; its railway carriages and restaurants a little dingier ... and the vainglorious rhetoric of politicians a little more fatuous."
"Yes, yes", I thought, "my sentiments exactly."
But, hang on, these were words written by Malcolm Muggeridge in 1963 - my halcyon days! What? Is it not England that has changed, but me?
Fruit, as it matures, ripens and becomes sweeter, but do people - well, me - become sourer, following the ripening process but in reverse?
PS
In my vinegary senescence, I saw this in today's paper, and my instant thought when I read that Basquiat - I know, I know, a total genius, just my narrow mindedness and bigotry that prevents me seeing that - when he said he was inspired by Leonardo, was referring to di Caprio:
Today I had a look at the $4 carts outside Second Story Books. A book that caught my eye was Will England Survive the Crisis?, published in 1979. I believe that Cornell University Press brought it out.
ReplyDeleteThere is a rich seam of disappontment clearly
DeleteI'm determined not to become sourer, to buck the trend, but to also try not to be smug in my aged recognition that plus ça change.
ReplyDeleteI probably couldn't get any sourer, unless there's an infinite scale. But I suspect if there is no one would notice - it's a bit like the difference between minus 30 degrees and minus 48 (I experienced both while spending time in Ulan Bator many years ago, and they both were at the top of a scale called completely unbearable)
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