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Post by Dan Dare on Mar 2, 2024 14:02:00 GMT
Zany has already posed the question about whether we should still be proud to be British. It seems that the prevailing sentiment here is that there is no longer much to be proud about. Several members have looked back nostalgically to their childhood, whimsically remarking on how things were better then.
I'd like to get Zany's reaction to exercise in radical nostalgia, the author relating childhood experiences that would not have been uncommon in the 50s and 60s. In fact it has many parallels to my own.
I'd ask him if he views that 'turning the clock back' so that more of today's young folk might experience such a childhood is not something that we should all be striving for. After all, it seems to articulate what many politicians promise.
...I now see, on reflection, how fortunate I was in my early childhood. I grew up in the heart of England, in an extended community of home, village, parish, town and sublime shire countryside. This was a community at ease with itself, proud and protective of its heritage, full of self-confidence and naturally optimistic for the future. As youngsters we took wonderful things for granted. We had yet to acquire the grown-up wisdom that knows life is not constant – that good times are special and precious; that they should be treasured and nurtured. We lived in a world of unconscious enchantment and openhearted emotion.
Our young lives were infused with a rich cultural heritage of extraordinary variety and profound relevance. At school we would listen, enchanted, as stories of the faerie world were recounted to our eager upturned faces – stories of betrayed innocence, of cruel exile, of selfless valour, of kindness behind ugliness, and of wickedness masked by flattery and deceit. We sang songs with unrestrained gusto of courtship and love, of the land and of the sea, of life and death, and of both the golden age and of times of cruel darkness (‘ring a-ring of roses’). And we danced with joy to the music of pipe, fiddle and drum.
In our school lessons we were shown the actuality of our world; why we had food in our bellies, clothes on our backs and a fire in the grate. We were shown the lives lived in the wider community – of the tough grimy underworld of the coal miners; of the brave trawler-men, their boats and the fish of the cold grey sea; and of the toiling farmer and the crops in the soil and beasts of the field. We were taught to read carefully, write beautifully, and do our sums without mistake. School outings were extended family adventures to redbrick labyrinthine palaces and sun-dappled parks, lazy Thames’ boat trips through Goring to see heron skim and hear the lock keeper’s beery tales. And once, I now recall, we even journeyed to far away Greenwich to marvel at huge telescopes of brass and wood, and gaze up at aged paintings of sail-ships at war. A precious heritage was being passed on for safekeeping.
The reality of nature was all about us. We moved through a landscape of sympathetic cultivation – of carefully pruned orchards, managed woodland, tilled fields and well tended livestock. This was a familiar landscape; we knew the names of the trees, the flowers, and the wildlife of meadow, spinney and brook. The hedgerows and fields were our own secret larder – blossom, berries, fruit, nuts and mushrooms marked out the year. We felt the all-enveloping hush of the night, saw the darkening frost-hardened fields ghost-lit by an infinite sky of stars, and heard the first whisper of snow on icy pane. We were drenched by sudden spring showers, browned by summer sun; stung (much too frequently) by angry bees, and chased by the farmer’s ill-tempered old ram. We saw animals born, animals mate and animals die. We knew the truth of the countryside – in all its bloody directness.
Permeating all of this was the experience of community, embodied by the ‘ordinary’ people, characterised by the custodianship of custom, tradition, and common decency. A network of gossip linked housewife to housewife, to deliveryman (grocer, baker, butcher, milkman, coalman, fishmonger), to the village midwife, the schoolteacher, the farm labourer, the village ‘bobby’, the postmistress and the postman.
A living web of wise-council and common knowledge existed throughout the community, self-adapting to best concentrate local information to the immediate area – few things of local importance would (for long) go unnoticed. A sense of both permanence and steady improvement pervaded; newcomers to the community were rare, but made most welcome (my own family being just such an example, having moved down from far-away Lincolnshire). Change was mostly from the ‘inside’, predicated on local experience and local wishes.
There was an assumption of safety and responsibility in this community. I recall walking home from junior school, often by myself – and why not? We trusted adults, and we lived in a community that expected that trust never to be betrayed. Children were given the time, space and protection to be children, to learn good things and to grow into wise adulthood. They were acknowledged and treasured as the community’s future.
This place, the Vale, the town and the countryside was, for us children especially, a place of natural enchantment. And it is the people of this place that, over very many generations, largely determined the form and function of the town, and of the surrounding countryside.
We grew up without anguished self-doubt, we lived our identity and had no thought of having to explain who we were (who would want to know?). Our Englishness was not elective or even consciously reflected upon – it was our actual being, of our belonging in an ancient realm of Middle England – of community, history, culture and place. We were who we were. |
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Post by thomas on Mar 2, 2024 14:30:39 GMT
Zany has already posed the question about whether we should still be proud to be British. It seems that the prevailing sentiment here is that there is no longer much to be proud about. Several members have looked back nostalgically to their childhood, whimsically remarking on how things were better then.
I'd like to get Zany's reaction to exercise in radical nostalgia, the author relating childhood experiences that would not have been uncommon in the 50s and 60s. In fact it has many parallels to my own.
I'd ask him if he views that 'turning the clock back' so that more of today's young folk might experience such a childhood is not something that we should all be striving for. After all, it seems to articulate what many politicians promise.
...I now see, on reflection, how fortunate I was in my early childhood. I grew up in the heart of England, in an extended community of home, village, parish, town and sublime shire countryside. This was a community at ease with itself, proud and protective of its heritage, full of self-confidence and naturally optimistic for the future. As youngsters we took wonderful things for granted. We had yet to acquire the grown-up wisdom that knows life is not constant – that good times are special and precious; that they should be treasured and nurtured. We lived in a world of unconscious enchantment and openhearted emotion.
Our young lives were infused with a rich cultural heritage of extraordinary variety and profound relevance. At school we would listen, enchanted, as stories of the faerie world were recounted to our eager upturned faces – stories of betrayed innocence, of cruel exile, of selfless valour, of kindness behind ugliness, and of wickedness masked by flattery and deceit. We sang songs with unrestrained gusto of courtship and love, of the land and of the sea, of life and death, and of both the golden age and of times of cruel darkness (‘ring a-ring of roses’). And we danced with joy to the music of pipe, fiddle and drum.
In our school lessons we were shown the actuality of our world; why we had food in our bellies, clothes on our backs and a fire in the grate. We were shown the lives lived in the wider community – of the tough grimy underworld of the coal miners; of the brave trawler-men, their boats and the fish of the cold grey sea; and of the toiling farmer and the crops in the soil and beasts of the field. We were taught to read carefully, write beautifully, and do our sums without mistake. School outings were extended family adventures to redbrick labyrinthine palaces and sun-dappled parks, lazy Thames’ boat trips through Goring to see heron skim and hear the lock keeper’s beery tales. And once, I now recall, we even journeyed to far away Greenwich to marvel at huge telescopes of brass and wood, and gaze up at aged paintings of sail-ships at war. A precious heritage was being passed on for safekeeping.
The reality of nature was all about us. We moved through a landscape of sympathetic cultivation – of carefully pruned orchards, managed woodland, tilled fields and well tended livestock. This was a familiar landscape; we knew the names of the trees, the flowers, and the wildlife of meadow, spinney and brook. The hedgerows and fields were our own secret larder – blossom, berries, fruit, nuts and mushrooms marked out the year. We felt the all-enveloping hush of the night, saw the darkening frost-hardened fields ghost-lit by an infinite sky of stars, and heard the first whisper of snow on icy pane. We were drenched by sudden spring showers, browned by summer sun; stung (much too frequently) by angry bees, and chased by the farmer’s ill-tempered old ram. We saw animals born, animals mate and animals die. We knew the truth of the countryside – in all its bloody directness.
Permeating all of this was the experience of community, embodied by the ‘ordinary’ people, characterised by the custodianship of custom, tradition, and common decency. A network of gossip linked housewife to housewife, to deliveryman (grocer, baker, butcher, milkman, coalman, fishmonger), to the village midwife, the schoolteacher, the farm labourer, the village ‘bobby’, the postmistress and the postman.
A living web of wise-council and common knowledge existed throughout the community, self-adapting to best concentrate local information to the immediate area – few things of local importance would (for long) go unnoticed. A sense of both permanence and steady improvement pervaded; newcomers to the community were rare, but made most welcome (my own family being just such an example, having moved down from far-away Lincolnshire). Change was mostly from the ‘inside’, predicated on local experience and local wishes.
There was an assumption of safety and responsibility in this community. I recall walking home from junior school, often by myself – and why not? We trusted adults, and we lived in a community that expected that trust never to be betrayed. Children were given the time, space and protection to be children, to learn good things and to grow into wise adulthood. They were acknowledged and treasured as the community’s future.
This place, the Vale, the town and the countryside was, for us children especially, a place of natural enchantment. And it is the people of this place that, over very many generations, largely determined the form and function of the town, and of the surrounding countryside.
We grew up without anguished self-doubt, we lived our identity and had no thought of having to explain who we were (who would want to know?). Our Englishness was not elective or even consciously reflected upon – it was our actual being, of our belonging in an ancient realm of Middle England – of community, history, culture and place. We were who we were.As a scot , the first thing im noticing is you appear to be conflating englishness , a national identity , with britishness , an imperial construct encompassing many different national identities. If you can't get the very name of the identity you are aiming for in your rose tinted glass navel gazing on some cherry picked nirvana period of history , then how can we take you serious in the first place? I dont believe you can turn back the clock , and to my mind your post is reflective of the very crises of identity , and massive post imperial decline we are witnessing in britishness today. Until England gets over its post imperial delusions , rediscovers its national identity again , and finds peace in that identity as a small European country , then pondering the ever increasing crises of pride , decline and identity in the 21st century will be the norm , while gazing blissfully back on some so called period of the Elysian Fields that in reality never existed . Andrew neil , among many other writers , thinkers and journalists , have written about this extensively , in Neils case only yesterday in his mail column. how the uk is in massive post imperial decline , unhappy , drifting aimlessly and how the political elite dont have a clue what to do about it. Some blame Brexit , others the political elite themselves and their failure on many issues , but these are mere symptoms of decline rather than the cause of that post imperial decline. You can't keep wist fully looking backwards .The empire for better or worse is gone , and it's not coming back. Same as the fifties and sixties . |
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Post by sandypine on Mar 2, 2024 15:11:15 GMT
Zany has already posed the question about whether we should still be proud to be British. It seems that the prevailing sentiment here is that there is no longer much to be proud about. Several members have looked back nostalgically to their childhood, whimsically remarking on how things were better then.
I'd like to get Zany's reaction to exercise in radical nostalgia, the author relating childhood experiences that would not have been uncommon in the 50s and 60s. In fact it has many parallels to my own.
I'd ask him if he views that 'turning the clock back' so that more of today's young folk might experience such a childhood is not something that we should all be striving for. After all, it seems to articulate what many politicians promise.
...I now see, on reflection, how fortunate I was in my early childhood. I grew up in the heart of England, in an extended community of home, village, parish, town and sublime shire countryside. This was a community at ease with itself, proud and protective of its heritage, full of self-confidence and naturally optimistic for the future. As youngsters we took wonderful things for granted. We had yet to acquire the grown-up wisdom that knows life is not constant – that good times are special and precious; that they should be treasured and nurtured. We lived in a world of unconscious enchantment and openhearted emotion.
Our young lives were infused with a rich cultural heritage of extraordinary variety and profound relevance. At school we would listen, enchanted, as stories of the faerie world were recounted to our eager upturned faces – stories of betrayed innocence, of cruel exile, of selfless valour, of kindness behind ugliness, and of wickedness masked by flattery and deceit. We sang songs with unrestrained gusto of courtship and love, of the land and of the sea, of life and death, and of both the golden age and of times of cruel darkness (‘ring a-ring of roses’). And we danced with joy to the music of pipe, fiddle and drum.
In our school lessons we were shown the actuality of our world; why we had food in our bellies, clothes on our backs and a fire in the grate. We were shown the lives lived in the wider community – of the tough grimy underworld of the coal miners; of the brave trawler-men, their boats and the fish of the cold grey sea; and of the toiling farmer and the crops in the soil and beasts of the field. We were taught to read carefully, write beautifully, and do our sums without mistake. School outings were extended family adventures to redbrick labyrinthine palaces and sun-dappled parks, lazy Thames’ boat trips through Goring to see heron skim and hear the lock keeper’s beery tales. And once, I now recall, we even journeyed to far away Greenwich to marvel at huge telescopes of brass and wood, and gaze up at aged paintings of sail-ships at war. A precious heritage was being passed on for safekeeping.
The reality of nature was all about us. We moved through a landscape of sympathetic cultivation – of carefully pruned orchards, managed woodland, tilled fields and well tended livestock. This was a familiar landscape; we knew the names of the trees, the flowers, and the wildlife of meadow, spinney and brook. The hedgerows and fields were our own secret larder – blossom, berries, fruit, nuts and mushrooms marked out the year. We felt the all-enveloping hush of the night, saw the darkening frost-hardened fields ghost-lit by an infinite sky of stars, and heard the first whisper of snow on icy pane. We were drenched by sudden spring showers, browned by summer sun; stung (much too frequently) by angry bees, and chased by the farmer’s ill-tempered old ram. We saw animals born, animals mate and animals die. We knew the truth of the countryside – in all its bloody directness.
Permeating all of this was the experience of community, embodied by the ‘ordinary’ people, characterised by the custodianship of custom, tradition, and common decency. A network of gossip linked housewife to housewife, to deliveryman (grocer, baker, butcher, milkman, coalman, fishmonger), to the village midwife, the schoolteacher, the farm labourer, the village ‘bobby’, the postmistress and the postman.
A living web of wise-council and common knowledge existed throughout the community, self-adapting to best concentrate local information to the immediate area – few things of local importance would (for long) go unnoticed. A sense of both permanence and steady improvement pervaded; newcomers to the community were rare, but made most welcome (my own family being just such an example, having moved down from far-away Lincolnshire). Change was mostly from the ‘inside’, predicated on local experience and local wishes.
There was an assumption of safety and responsibility in this community. I recall walking home from junior school, often by myself – and why not? We trusted adults, and we lived in a community that expected that trust never to be betrayed. Children were given the time, space and protection to be children, to learn good things and to grow into wise adulthood. They were acknowledged and treasured as the community’s future.
This place, the Vale, the town and the countryside was, for us children especially, a place of natural enchantment. And it is the people of this place that, over very many generations, largely determined the form and function of the town, and of the surrounding countryside.
We grew up without anguished self-doubt, we lived our identity and had no thought of having to explain who we were (who would want to know?). Our Englishness was not elective or even consciously reflected upon – it was our actual being, of our belonging in an ancient realm of Middle England – of community, history, culture and place. We were who we were.As a scot , the first thing im noticing is you appear to be conflating englishness , a national identity , with britishness , an imperial construct encompassing many different national identities. If you can't get the very name of the identity you are aiming for in your rose tinted glass navel gazing on some cherry picked nirvana period of history , then how can we take you serious in the first place? I dont believe you can turn back the clock , and to my mind your post is reflective of the very crises of identity , and massive post imperial decline we are witnessing in britishness today. Until England gets over its post imperial delusions , rediscovers its national identity again , and finds peace in that identity as a small European country , then pondering the ever increasing crises of pride , decline and identity in the 21st century will be the norm , while gazing blissfully back on some so called period of the Elysian Fields that in reality never existed . Andrew neil , among many other writers , thinkers and journalists , have written about this extensively , in Neils case only yesterday in his mail column. how the uk is in massive post imperial decline , unhappy , drifting aimlessly and how the political elite dont have a clue what to do about it. Some blame Brexit , others the political elite themselves and their failure on many issues , but these are mere symptoms of decline rather than the cause of that post imperial decline. You can't keep wist fully looking backwards .The empire for better or worse is gone , and it's not coming back. Same as the fifties and sixties . The example chosen may be English but its description rests in the broad sweep of who were the lucky ones. The experiences above are not significantly different to my own growing up in North Central Scotland in a large village with countryside in most directions. The only difference was that postwar the community consisted of many English, some Welsh, a few Poles, a couple of Italians, some Irish and in our case a couple of Americans as well as the Scottish. The British experience growing up in the fifties is predicated on Britain with cultural similarities irrespective of town or country upbringing. A country upbringing in Scotland was not dissimilar to a country upbringing in England, as were town and city upbringings. Nowadays that upbringing would be varied by many other cultural factors that have moved the similarities. |
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Post by thomas on Mar 2, 2024 15:17:04 GMT
As a scot , the first thing im noticing is you appear to be conflating englishness , a national identity , with britishness , an imperial construct encompassing many different national identities. If you can't get the very name of the identity you are aiming for in your rose tinted glass navel gazing on some cherry picked nirvana period of history , then how can we take you serious in the first place? I dont believe you can turn back the clock , and to my mind your post is reflective of the very crises of identity , and massive post imperial decline we are witnessing in britishness today. Until England gets over its post imperial delusions , rediscovers its national identity again , and finds peace in that identity as a small European country , then pondering the ever increasing crises of pride , decline and identity in the 21st century will be the norm , while gazing blissfully back on some so called period of the Elysian Fields that in reality never existed . Andrew neil , among many other writers , thinkers and journalists , have written about this extensively , in Neils case only yesterday in his mail column. how the uk is in massive post imperial decline , unhappy , drifting aimlessly and how the political elite dont have a clue what to do about it. Some blame Brexit , others the political elite themselves and their failure on many issues , but these are mere symptoms of decline rather than the cause of that post imperial decline. You can't keep wist fully looking backwards .The empire for better or worse is gone , and it's not coming back. Same as the fifties and sixties . The example chosen may be English but its description rests in the broad sweep of who were the lucky ones. The experiences above are not significantly different to my own growing up in North Central Scotland in a large village with countryside in most directions. The only difference was that postwar the community consisted of many English, some Welsh, a few Poles, a couple of Italians, some Irish and in our case a couple of Americans as well as the Scottish. The British experience growing up in the fifties is predicated on Britain with cultural similarities irrespective of town or country upbringing. A country upbringing in Scotland was not dissimilar to a country upbringing in England, as were town and city upbringings. Nowadays that upbringing would be varied by many other cultural factors that have moved the similarities. A country upbringing in scotland would be as similar to that in many places in Western Europe , if not further afield , during a similar timescale. Both scotland England , and everywhere else , has moved on though from those time periods under discussion. You can't turn back the clock. So what is the point you are trying and failing to make in your post? As far as I can see , you merely bolster my argument in my previous post about how its all about looking backwards to some rose tinted period and saying boo hoo , weren't things all wonder full for us British during the days of empire? Nothing stays the same . Things change , the world carries on turning , and what its about for most people is making the present and future as best as they can without navel gazing about a past that won't ever return. |
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Post by happyhornet on Mar 2, 2024 15:18:07 GMT
Anybody else noticed how nobody ever lives in a golden era, they just remember one?
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Post by thomas on Mar 2, 2024 15:19:52 GMT
As a scot , the first thing im noticing is you appear to be conflating englishness , a national identity , with britishness , an imperial construct encompassing many different national identities. If you can't get the very name of the identity you are aiming for in your rose tinted glass navel gazing on some cherry picked nirvana period of history , then how can we take you serious in the first place? . Nowadays that upbringing would be varied by many other cultural factors that have moved the similarities. Whats wrong with that then sandy? Does the polish girl on the Tesco checkout upset your bwitishness? |
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Post by thomas on Mar 2, 2024 15:25:11 GMT
Anybody else noticed how nobody ever lives in a golden era, they just remember one? yep. Especially the elderly British nationalists like sandy , navel gazing about a time that never really existed except in his head. Commando comics showing how Britain won the war on its own , and none of they nasty brown and black people in the cities , and how everyone knew their place. You can actually smell the decay , the decline , and the fear as the Britain of enid Blyton changes day by day , week by week , as though Britain has never changed once throughout history. I suppose the elderly have been saying the same since gildas wrote about the ruin and conquest of Britain in the fifth century and how those Anglo Saxon immigrants from Germany were stealing land. |
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Post by sheepy on Mar 2, 2024 15:32:02 GMT
Anybody else noticed how nobody ever lives in a golden era, they just remember one? yep. Especially the elderly British nationalists like sandy , navel gazing about a time that never really existed except in his head. Commando comics showing how Britain won the war on its own , and none of they nasty brown and black people in the cities , and how everyone knew their place. You can actually smell the decay , the decline , and the fear as the Britain of enid Blyton changes day by day , week by week , as though Britain has never changed once throughout history. I suppose the elderly have been saying the same since nennius wrote about the ruin and conquest of Britain in the fifth century and how those Anglo Saxon immigrants from Germany were stealing land. Never has the UK wherever you live or grew up changed so radically so quickly, what Dan puts very well from his own experience changed very little for probably the best part of a century. Even world wars only changed it for a short time in the bigger picture. |
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Post by thomas on Mar 2, 2024 15:37:06 GMT
yep. Especially the elderly British nationalists like sandy , navel gazing about a time that never really existed except in his head. Commando comics showing how Britain won the war on its own , and none of they nasty brown and black people in the cities , and how everyone knew their place. You can actually smell the decay , the decline , and the fear as the Britain of enid Blyton changes day by day , week by week , as though Britain has never changed once throughout history. I suppose the elderly have been saying the same since nennius wrote about the ruin and conquest of Britain in the fifth century and how those Anglo Saxon immigrants from Germany were stealing land. Never has the UK wherever you live or grew up changed so radically, what Dan puts very well from his own experience changed very little for probably the best part of a century. Even world wars only changed it for a short time in the bigger picture. then you clearly dont know your own countries history , never mind the rest of the uk. Of course the uk and its nations have changed radically in the past , just as it is in present , and will in the future. Change is something that happens constantly like it or not. There seems to be this mistaken belief that the world was the same forever and a day , until now. History is the record of that constant change. When that wee welsh guy glidas wrote about the ruin and conquest of Britain in the fifth century , and the waves of English invaders slaughtering his people , the pace of change was no less radical for him as it is for you. |
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Post by sandypine on Mar 2, 2024 15:41:54 GMT
The example chosen may be English but its description rests in the broad sweep of who were the lucky ones. The experiences above are not significantly different to my own growing up in North Central Scotland in a large village with countryside in most directions. The only difference was that postwar the community consisted of many English, some Welsh, a few Poles, a couple of Italians, some Irish and in our case a couple of Americans as well as the Scottish. The British experience growing up in the fifties is predicated on Britain with cultural similarities irrespective of town or country upbringing. A country upbringing in Scotland was not dissimilar to a country upbringing in England, as were town and city upbringings. Nowadays that upbringing would be varied by many other cultural factors that have moved the similarities. A country upbringing in scotland would be as similar to that in many places in Western Europe , if not further afield , during a similar timescale. Both scotland England , and everywhere else , has moved on though from those time periods under discussion. You can't turn back the clock. So what is the point you are trying and failing to make in your post? As far as I can see , you merely bolster my argument in my previous post about how its all about looking backwards to some rose tinted period and saying boo hoo , weren't things all wonder full for us British during the days of empire? Nothing stays the same . Things change , the world carries on turning , and what its about for most people is making the present and future as best as they can without navel gazing about a past that won't ever return. I would not disagree, I was pointing out that the fact the reference was English was not specifically at odds with Britain. Cider with Rosie was an English experience relatable to Scotland quite easily just as John Buchan's Huntingtower with the Gorbals diehards could easily be set in England with the Everton diehards or any group of diehard youngsters from any city background. The reference was how lucky we were to have grown up in that time and there are many who despise the boomers life of so called easy street. |
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Post by sheepy on Mar 2, 2024 15:44:25 GMT
Never has the UK wherever you live or grew up changed so radically, what Dan puts very well from his own experience changed very little for probably the best part of a century. Even world wars only changed it for a short time in the bigger picture. then you clearly dont know your own countries history , never mind the rest of the uk. Of course the uk and its nations have changed radically in the past , just as it is in present , and will in the future. Change is something that happens constantly like it or not. There seems to be this mistaken belief that the world was the same forever and a day , until now. History is the record of that constant change. When that wee welsh guy glidas wrote about the ruin and conquest of Britain in the fifth century , and the waves of English invaders slaughtering his people , the pace of change was no less radical for him as it is for you. No thomas, it has never changed so quickly which is basically a technological revolution. I didn't say if Dans nostalgia which is still within one lifetime should be remembered as a better time for living in the UK, but it certainly did have its merits. Which is why I added quickly because I realised somebody would be along with some excuse. A little late on this occasion. |
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Post by sandypine on Mar 2, 2024 15:45:42 GMT
Nowadays that upbringing would be varied by many other cultural factors that have moved the similarities. Whats wrong with that then sandy? Does the polish girl on the Tesco checkout upset your bwitishness? No but making the Supermarket Polish catering for Poles, the shops catering for various different ethnic groups means that Multiculturalism in part destroys a cohesive society and it is the community that is lost that is the issue. I pointed out that many and varied were the other groups in my Scottish village but they were all part of one community. |
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Post by sandypine on Mar 2, 2024 15:47:52 GMT
Anybody else noticed how nobody ever lives in a golden era, they just remember one? I thought baby boomers were blamed for having it easy and pulling up the ladder. If that is true we must have lived in a golden era. |
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Post by thomas on Mar 2, 2024 15:50:47 GMT
A country upbringing in scotland would be as similar to that in many places in Western Europe , if not further afield , during a similar timescale. Both scotland England , and everywhere else , has moved on though from those time periods under discussion. You can't turn back the clock. So what is the point you are trying and failing to make in your post? As far as I can see , you merely bolster my argument in my previous post about how its all about looking backwards to some rose tinted period and saying boo hoo , weren't things all wonder full for us British during the days of empire? Nothing stays the same . Things change , the world carries on turning , and what its about for most people is making the present and future as best as they can without navel gazing about a past that won't ever return. I would not disagree, I was pointing out that the fact the reference was English was not specifically at odds with Britain. Clearly it is. I said he appeared to be conflating englishness with britishness. They are two completely separate identities . One is a nationality , the other multi national . His article specifically mentions England , while his first sentence talks about zany s question about britishness as though they are one and the same. Im pointing out this is part of the English problem of today , this inability to get over the empire , and move on. Clearly , a reference to some 1950`s English village life , would be clearly at odds to a reference to some 1950`s Scottish village in the highlands for example , where the Gaelic language and customs still clung on , or northern ireland , or even north Wales. I think im lucky to have grown up where and when I did , as do most people I would argue of their time and generation. Who has said they despise the baby boomers? The thread specifically started off about navel gazing to a cherry picked period of englishness and how Wonderfull it was in the fifties and sixties. Im questioning that , and calling it bollocks. While suggesting the English need to get over the loss of their empire , rejoin the world , and get on wit making their country the best it can be without looking back wistfully at a period that never really existed as they imagine . |
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Post by thomas on Mar 2, 2024 15:54:05 GMT
then you clearly dont know your own countries history , never mind the rest of the uk. Of course the uk and its nations have changed radically in the past , just as it is in present , and will in the future. Change is something that happens constantly like it or not. There seems to be this mistaken belief that the world was the same forever and a day , until now. History is the record of that constant change. When that wee welsh guy glidas wrote about the ruin and conquest of Britain in the fifth century , and the waves of English invaders slaughtering his people , the pace of change was no less radical for him as it is for you. No thomas, it has never changed so quickly which is basically a technological revolution. I didn't say if Dans nostalgia which is still within one lifetime should be remembered as a better time for living in the UK, but it certainly did have its merits. Which is why I added quickly because I realised somebody would be along with some excuse. A little late on this occasion. I fully disagree. Both scotland ,and England , along with the rest of the world has and always will change. If you are specifically talking about immigration , then it's a staple of every point in human history. People move. The fact your politicians are ignoring your wishes regarding immigration is only something you can change . To do that , you need to stop voting in the same parties every elections then moaning how things never change politically. You won't stop immigration , but you can certainly control it better. |
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