The 1950s (with Facebook)
“I’ve got my country back and I’m over the moon”.
That’s what a chap at the bus stop announced to his fellow passengers this morning. The fellow passengers were me, two East European students from Brunel, a woman with a buggy and two ladies from the over 60s housing on their way into Uxbridge.
The woman with the buggy, started to egg him on, whilst having a messenger conversation on Facebook. The two students looked uncomfortable and looked away.
I really wasn’t trying to provoke an argument. I was genuinely interested because I’m not sure what this phrase about “getting our country back” actually means.
Jim’s picture was straightforward: White, Jobs aplenty, Housing aplenty, Respect and “decent shows on the telly”.
The elderly ladies joined in and for a couple of minutes we toyed with the idea of conscription.
The woman with the buggy said that her partner might get back into the building trade, “after all the Poles had gone back home”.
The two students left the queue and disappeared through the underpass.
The bus arrived just as Jim was announcing, “If the great future is like the 1950s, I’ll be happy”.
I got on the bus and went upstairs. I didn’t know what else to contribute to the conversation.
I guessed that Jim was about my age, possibly a bit younger. Did he know the 1950s?
I drifted off into a Rupert Brooke poem situated in a Midsomer type of backdrop.
I saw Steven in an asylum. No clothes bar a nappy. Chained by the ankle to a bedpost.
Jan Tregelles would be CEO of The Spastics Society.
I don’t know what period this reclaimed country is located in.
As my friend said, It’s some vague time in the 1950s. And it’s got Facebook.
From → Social Care