A diverse offering twixt the interesting, the unusual, and the amusing.
Saturday, 9 April 2011
What Happened To Good Manners?
I was recently appalled by an act of gross bad manners, so I reprint this 'edited' piece from my 2009 book 'Périgord Life. Je t'adore 24, Encore'. It also contains a few other moans.
NOSTALGIA MOMENT: I am of an age where I can remember a very different, and more pleasant, Europe.
I used to have faith in the police force; now I don’t.
I used to believe that if one needed the recourse of the legal system, that ‘right’ would always conquer ‘wrong’; this is no longer the case.
I used to live in the knowledge that my National Insurance policy would look after me ‘from the cradle to the grave’ (Although I never actually received an Insurance Policy stating as much. Did anyone?); this no longer happens.
I used to think that our well-paid immigration officers would ensure that no fanatical anti-British/French terrorists would be allowed to settle here at our expense; hordes of them have been welcomed with open arms.
I used to respect politicians; now I see most of them as no more than dim-witted fat-cat fraudsters.
I used to think that to speak correctly, to write legibly, and possess good manners, were qualities to which one should aspire; nowadays they seem to be qualities to be derided.
Eating in the street was simply not done, we gave up our seats on the tube/bus for women, we opened doors for the elderly; all these have gone, and I, for one, find it all very depressing.
We went with friends to the Scallop festival in Whitianga; a charming
seaside town in the Coromandal District.
Had a great time...5000 people, lots of wine...
3 years ago
The difference between an optimist and a pessimist, is that the optimist enjoys himself whilst waiting for the inevitable! I AM that optimist!
This is a daily, optimistic, 'photos and comments' blog. I make no judgements (only occasionally), just notes. If you wish to comment in any way at all, please feel free. Everything and everyone is very welcome.
I was born just south of London, but for the past 44 years I've lived in S W France. I am a painter by profession, and writer by desire. Lady Magnon and I live in an ancient cottage, in a tiny village, in perfectly tranquil countryside. We have a vegetable garden called 'Haddock's' (this may crop up from time to time), a Border Collie cross called Bok, a cat called Freddie, plenty of fruit trees, and a view that takes the breath away. I try to treat our planet with respect, and encourage others to do likewise (without preaching).
Contentment is a glass of red, a plate of charcuterie, and a slice of good country bread. Perfect!