What do you think of when you see this photo?
I went to Chester today for my monthly run around the used book shops. One of the things I like about Chester (apart from leaving it) is the little old ladies. They are of a breed that I had thought extinct. The kind I used to see a lot of when growing up in Victoria. None of them wear white gloves and flowered hats (that breed has definitely moved on, but I remember them very fondly), but they are still wearing their pleated tweed and plaid skirts, cardies, white blouses buttoned up to the neck, sensible brown shoes. In winter they've got their headscarves.
I like to listen to them chatting with each other while we wait for the bus. It makes me sad to think that some day soon, they're going to be gone, that breed who were born before the war. The ones who raised me and taught me which fork to use. They're going to be replaced soon with the people who will possibly make the worst generation of little old ladies in human history.
Next time, when I've had a moment to think about it, I'll take my camera and take some photos. You'll know exactly the kind I mean. I find I'm mourning for them already, even though they are still here.
I look at them, and I find that more than anything I want their world back.
8 comments:
My sovereign has style. Too bad she is a heretic.
Mind your manners boy.
A thunderstorm is headed her way, but she looks like a tough lady. She plans to "weather" the storm as they say.
She's probably thinking the same thing I am thinking when staring out the window: "Where did it all go?"
I get the same feeling watching old black and white British movies of the '40s--Trevor Howard, where are you?
It makes me think "shut that window before that nice polished floor gets wet OR GOD FORBID THE RUG" - Karen
There is only one "the Queen" for speakers of English. Even those of us in the rebellious Republic.
"It makes me sad to think that some day soon, they're going to be gone, that breed who were born before the war."
it's true, couldn't help thinking just this hearing about humphrey lyttelton.
I know exactly the kind of lady whose passing from the scene you are rightly mourning: my Glaswegian granny, who fell asleep in the Lord a month ago yesterday, was exactly this kind of lady you describe, matched in genteel class by my late grandfather, who followed that eminently commendable custom of wearing jacket and tie everywhere, even, on occasion, being known to cut the grass in said attire. It is too sad that we shall not see their like again--those who fought and won the war--but are condemned to be confronted by people in their ghastly leisurewear and even more ghastly "manners." Perhaps we should all move to the Isle of Man?
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