Sunday, 23 March 2008

In Which We Serve . . .

. . . was on the telly – again – this afternoon. So of course I watched it. For perhaps the 20th time.

And as per bloody usual I blubbed more or less throughout.

Funny thing is that even though it's my own childhood I'm mourning, even manly tears were frowned on then.

They fall much more easily now.


Umbongo said...


In that case we blubbed together this afternoon. We weep because we are weeping for rather more than our childhoods: it's for a lost world of understatement, fellow-feeling, unashamed - but unstated - patriotism, absence of fear (from thugs or those in authority) and many other things which I cannot pass on to my children who were born in the 70s.

The Creator said...

Yes, of course. There were certainties then, taken for granted, which no amount of flag-waving, bogus, Brown-style Britishness would have made any more true. They simply existed.

There's tons to be said about this.

Big post coming (if I can bestir myself).

Good to know I am not alone.