bits of english character

edward morgan says (feigning a hyper-english character for the discourse):

Once upon a time (this is an anecdote) I went for a week's holiday on the Continent with an Indian friend. We both enjoyed ourselves and were sorry when the week was over, but on parting our behaviour was absolutely different. He was plunged in despair. He felt that because the holiday was over all happiness was over until the world ended. He could not express his sorrow too much. But in me the Englishman came out strong. I reflected that we should meet again in a month or two, and could write in the interval if we had anything to say; and under these circumstances I could not see what there was to make a fuss about. It wasn't as if we were parting for ever or dying. "Buck up," I said, "do buck up." He refused to buck up, and I left him plunged in gloom.
The conclusion of the anecdote is even more instructive. For when we met the next month our conversation threw a good deal of light on the English character. I began by scolding my friend. I told him that he had been wrong to feel and display so much emotion upon so slight an occasion; that it was inappropriate. The world "inappropriate" roused him to fury. "What?" he cried. "Do you measure out your emotions as if they were potatoes?" I did not like the simile of the potatoes, but after a moment's reflection I said, "Yes, I do; and what's more, I think I ought to. A small occasion demands a little emotion, just as a large occasion demands a great one. I would like my emotions to be appropriate. This may be measuring them like potatoes, but it is better than slopping them about like water from a pail, which is what you did." He did not like the simile of the pail. "If those are your opinions, they part us forever," he cried, and left the room. Returning immediately, he added: "No - but your whole attitude toward emotion is wrong. Emotion has nothing to do with appropriateness. It mattters only that it shall be sincere. I happened to feel deeply. I showed it. It doesn't matter whetehr I ought to have felt deeply or not."
This remark impressed me very much. Yet I could not agree with it, and said that I valued emotion as much as he did, but used it differently; if I poured it out on small occasion I was afraid of having none left for the great ones, and of being bankrupt at the crises of life. Note the word 'bankrupt'. I spoke as a member of a prudent middle-class nation, always anxious to meet my liabilities. But my friend spoke as an Oriental, and the Oriental has behind him a tradition, not of middle-class prudence, but of kingly munificence and splendour. He feels his resources are endless, just as John Bull feels his are finite. As regards material resources, the Oriental is clearly unwise...But, as regards the resources of the spirit, he may be right. The emotions may be endless. The more we express them, the more we may have to express.



i hope he would call me an oriental. meanwhile, today has been sunny-skied and 68 degrees, meaning all the brits are out in their tanktops and barechests. i read in the park for most of the afternoon and gained several barnacles sitting beneath a tree: some tiny, funny and adorable english toddlers. two girls especially, aged three years and named tillie and amialah (spelling unclear- i asked her to spell it for me and she traced it silently and dutifully in the air...), and their little sister who barely spoke but carried around weed flowers and a boy too with a walking stick capped with a piece of rubbish. they trekked back and forth to my tree and their mummies about 12 times before their mummies finally came over to apologize and thank me and usher them away. they showed me all of their bruises and scrapes, did see-food with their apple slices, took off their socks and showed me their toes (partially painted purple sparkles), tried to take off their summer dresses before i intervened, and asked me the best questions.
"do you have children?"
"no, i am too young."
"are you an adult?"
"yes i am, but only just recently."
"do you date boys?"
"yes i do, i have a boyfriend."
"what's his name?"
"andrew. he lives right over there actually, but he's at work now."
"oh, my daddy is at work too!" "yes, my daddy too." "his work is just that way. then if you go next to the mumblemumble and cross the street is my nursery!" "those are our mummies over there, mine is the one in the white shirt and tillie's in the orange shirt and ___ in the blue shirt but he's not here today." "why are you reading?"..."where do you live?"..."we are playing ball!"..."i think you are twenty...one."..."but your glasses are not sparkly like mine."...etc

those accents were precious, i hope you can imagine. edinburgh is such a lovely small town.