1776 and all that
I think it fair to state that Brits in Portland is no more. There has been no official statement, of course. Like the Empire it went out with a fizzle rather than a bang and, with an echo of 1776, it was the Americans that put it out of its misery.
Not out of any revolutionary fervour, though. No, merely through an effortless application of their natural conviviality, engagement and generosity; and it was these wholly positive though essentially alien traits that enabled them to dominate a group of essentially indifferent Brits according to their vision of 'this other Eden', a rose-tinted understanding few of us recognised, for the most part because it had been largely derived from the novels of Jane Austen and Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, minus the dinosaurs. And it was difficult to argue with, for several reasons. Firstly, no-one wanted to cause a scene. Secondly, the expatriate shares something of this yen for an old country which they forget never existed; if the self-styled anglophiles wished to gloss over minor details such as those bands of lovable street urchins that inhabit the identikit pedestrianised shopping precincts of our market towns, bag of glue in one hand, your mobile in the other, Katie and Peter, dark Satanic call centres, Girls Aloud, the BNP, ASBOs and so forth in favour of the narcotised visions of upper middle-class nineteenth century poets and novelists, where was the harm in that? Thirdly, the resident Americans seemed far better informed on all aspects of British culture than any of us, so who were we to argue? If they told us it was St George's Day, or the Queen's birthday, by golly we believed them.
Ultimately, when they turn their mind to it, the Americans are better than the British at almost everything – including being British, circa 1870.
Not out of any revolutionary fervour, though. No, merely through an effortless application of their natural conviviality, engagement and generosity; and it was these wholly positive though essentially alien traits that enabled them to dominate a group of essentially indifferent Brits according to their vision of 'this other Eden', a rose-tinted understanding few of us recognised, for the most part because it had been largely derived from the novels of Jane Austen and Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, minus the dinosaurs. And it was difficult to argue with, for several reasons. Firstly, no-one wanted to cause a scene. Secondly, the expatriate shares something of this yen for an old country which they forget never existed; if the self-styled anglophiles wished to gloss over minor details such as those bands of lovable street urchins that inhabit the identikit pedestrianised shopping precincts of our market towns, bag of glue in one hand, your mobile in the other, Katie and Peter, dark Satanic call centres, Girls Aloud, the BNP, ASBOs and so forth in favour of the narcotised visions of upper middle-class nineteenth century poets and novelists, where was the harm in that? Thirdly, the resident Americans seemed far better informed on all aspects of British culture than any of us, so who were we to argue? If they told us it was St George's Day, or the Queen's birthday, by golly we believed them.
Ultimately, when they turn their mind to it, the Americans are better than the British at almost everything – including being British, circa 1870.
posted by Richard Tammar at 9:58 AM
1 Comments:
Whilst I agree that there was no need for their lame Aerosmith cover, I take issue with you singling out Girls Aloud as one of the ills afflicting this green & pleasant land. IMHO, 'Sound of the Underground' and 'No Good Advice' are pretty perfect 3-minute slices of polished pop tunes, which is infinitely preferable to the lumpen indie-schmindie currently clogging the charts (mentioning no names...but thinking of Kaiser Chefs(sic), Razorsh*te and Arctic Monkeys amongst others).
Still, if you ever get nostalgic for 'the old country', you might like http://www.afternoontea.co.uk/ - I'm holding out for scones & cucumber sandwiches at the fantastically-named Monkey Island Hotel!
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