Breath taking
At time breathtaking, the
whole city is visually exciting
and captivates you with an
enchanting power. My
intermittent hypnosis recalls
our blind American adulation
of the "civilized English way,"
personified for me by
tea-sipping BBC Radio 3. But
there is another kind of power
here, one which enchants by
controlling an acquiescent
populace. Like bagpipes,
whining complaints are heard
everywhere: scorn for
nationalized railways and
utilities, criticism of "public
services" which function only
at the convenience of the
provider, and skepticism about
recent wage and price controls.
But nothing is done.
Bureaucracy and a kind of
Chivas Regal casts system
impose laws and the people
follow undaunted. They now
jealously enjoy Britain's
celebrated political and social
stability. And taxes are so high
that the old English "work
ethic" is rapidly disappearing:
the people seem to lack
incentives to climb out of a
mediocre life-style. The real
power still lies in the hands of
a quiet, wealthy minority.
"Middle of the road"
people– like the students some
may prefer– are not hard to
find. One might say in general
that they are very friendly,
under certain circumstances.
Ask hurriedly for directions
but expect a proud,
long-winded report on the road
to take and the landmarks you
will pass by. Exasperating.
Charming. But the lowland
Scots here are timid and dour.
Intense about almost nothing,
their hobbies include
gardening, golf, and
America-watching. Sleek, cool
and elegant, women avoid your
eye, not having learned that
