Well, if that's my holidays then I've had them. Not really. Got a week in Machrihanish at the beginning of August to look forward to, when no doubt it will pleut tous les jours.
A brilliant and really warm ten days in the south west of France was had by all, especially the mosquitoes who have been using me as a feeding ground, must be all the bad cholesterol that appeals to them. Beaucoup du vin et le canard was consumed and I am even more portly than I was previously.
Anything been happening in my near two weeks of splendid isolation?
A Brit has won Wimbledon, you say!
No, never.
On my ferry home anyway, you could have been excused if you had thought that Andy Murray was from some country even more despised than France to the population of the largest nation in our United (?) Kingdom. I know that I cannot base my judgement on the two or three hundred English people on a particular boat at a particular time but I was rather disappointed and a tad incensed at the contempt that there was for the Scot, there I've said it, although he left the country when he was fifteen for Barcelona, and let's face it who wouldn't if they got the chance, he still sounds Scottish, then again so does Sir Sean and he hasn't lived here since the fifties but don't get me started on him. I and probably the majority of people north of Carlisle are under no illusions that he would have been Scottish in the English press on Monday morning had he not beaten the world's number one. No the Serb had not been paid to throw the match like the couple from the West Midlands sitting next to me remarked at the end, in all fucking seriousness!
I am not one for tennis. When I was a kid the only thing that the second week of Wimbledon meant to me was the start of my school holidays. I have always thought of it as a sport for the rather privileged, you don't find many tennis courts in housing schemes or see many normal punters on the seats at Center Court, and nearly as anachronistic in it's outlook as golf. However, when stuck on a boat for nine hours with nothing else to, do as we did not have a cabin I decided to watch the final, christ, I would even have watched the Grand Prix or something equally mind numbing to pass the time. It wasn't long until I was really getting involved and vocally cheering on Murray as others from my homeland, as I do consider myself as British, rooted for Djokovic. At the end I was more relieved that the Scot had won rather than pleased as it wiped the smug satisfying looks off of the coupons of some sitting around me.
I don't believe that the whole of the English nation is so small minded and bigoted as the ones I encountered on Sunday, just like not all Scots are drunks with a penchant for anything deep fried in batter, only some of us. But there is a section of the society that needs to take a hard look at itself, the same section who in the middle of France should also review the strategy of shouting at a waitress and breaking an English word down into syllables as it isn't going to get you anywhere and probably just reinforces the preconceived contempt that she probably already had.
How dare you people make me think that our "sonsie faced" First Minister might have a point and also have me banging on about a sport that I really couldn't give a flying fuck for!
Oh, and just before I finish, Murray's victory cannot be compared to the English team winning the World Cup in 1966, as suggested on the Today programme yesterday morning, you can have that one, as you haven't stopped banging on about it for fifty three fucking years!
Sorry for the rant, but I needed to get that off my chest.
Here is a bit of soul.
Doris Duke -I Don't Care Anymore
10 comments:
Welcome back our kid!
I've missed you. Super rant that. Started off tamely and built into a fiery crescendo of Vesuvius proportions. Great stuff.
I think you just got a dud lot on the ferry there mate. Please rest assured that the vast majority of English folk I know (granted, they're mostly Yorkshire) were cheering on Andy 'Kevin' Murray.
I was personally hoping that he did it for the townsfolk of Dunblane. That's the way I am.
But at least we won't have to hear the Fred Perry / 77 yrs mantra again.
Maybe AM can now start his own range of iconic leisure wear?
I'm no Bjorn Borg, but to my eyes, AM's Serbian opponent seemed to be trying awfully hard for a man supposedly taking a ahem, 'backhander'. Millionaires eh - they'll do owt for a bit more filthy lucre in a Far Eastern brown envelope.
Ignore the English eedjits Drewster - you get 'em everywhere. They're not worf it!
Although I coulda done without the 1st Minister pulling out the surreptitious Saltire at the end of the match. (Oh how my cynicism overtakes me sometimes). What's a 'sonsie face' by the way - a saucepan?
Porper rant from Drew- welcome back. You've been missed. Glad you enjoyed your holiday- hope a few tits on a ferry didn't spoil it (although from our point of view it was worth cos we get to read this epic piece of bloggery)
Welcome back. Waiting for your holiday tales and pics. For what it's worth I completely agree with you. I have this rather foolish hope that the web maybe could help knocking down stereotypes by getting people from different countries to know others a little bit better.
Anyway, in Italy in such situations we usually quote Dante's Inferno, Canto III, v. 51:
"non ragioniam di lor, ma guarda e passa" which means "Let us not talk of them; but look, and pass!”.
Luca - (more) boring (than usual) commenter.
That is sad you certainly got the short straw. Everyone i know was right behind him all the way. as for the 2 that thought dj threw the game , Jesus what match were they watching. That kind of stupidity just makes me despair.
Scottish if he looses, British when he wins!
Top rant Drew
Guys, I don't think that the lot on the boat were representative of the nation but strangely enough encountered a bit of anti Murray sentiment in Cornwall last year while waiting to purchase the Sunday papers, woman behind the till and her friend went rather red when I said thank you in as broad an accent as I could muster.
Like you DVD I could have done without the Saltire thing, it was unnecessary.
"Fair fa your honest sonsie face" is the first line of the address to a haggis,it means cheerful but when I see Salmond's coupon it reminds me of a haggis or as in the Billy Connolly sketch " a face like a City Bakers Halloween cake"
I like the Dante quote Luca, if only I could bite my tongue and walk on by but unfortunately I always take the bait.
Epic return. Worth the 10 day gap.
Welcome back Drew -and with a great hit of words. Looks like you enjoyed your days off. The same could happen to you in Germany. Sometimes I feel ashamed of my compatriots when they act like they broke out of the cage.
Long may you take the bait, Drew, if only for the opportunity to read great posts like this one. Just don't fret too much (that's the meaning of the Dante quote). And Walter, don't be too harsh on your fellow countrymen: we are all like that sometimes, and usually without even noticing. The goal is to be aware of that and try to better ourselves.
Old Man Luca (to be read with a croaky voice and taking pauses to spit tobacco in a jar).
Brits Out !!!
Post a Comment