A very different post this time as I was asked by a friend to wait in a certain house for a couple of important parcels being delivered while they were otherwise engaged and away. I took a book with me that I thought I would like about spy activity in the present digital/Facebook era but it was pretty dry and highbrow stuff and after 50 pages or so I gave up. Worthy but dull.
As I was sitting out in the garden with a fine view of the flight path for planes flying into Glasgow Airport my attention soon shifted to that and it became a game to see how many I could spot and capture. I did not have long to wait as they glided past every couple of minutes during busy periods in the early afternoon. Two different Emirates Airlines planes here. They also have the world's largest commercial planes in their fleet, the mighty Airbus A380 flying twice daily between Glasgow and Dubai.
Later that night I watched Goodbye Christopher Robin, a recent film based on writer A. A. Milne's difficult relationship with his young son. Considering this is the man who wrote Winnie The Pooh, an eternal children's classic it's a sad, complex tale of parents who might as well have lived on Pluto for all the warmth and interest.or compassion they bestowed on their young son. Fairly typical of upper middle class parents of that time period they lived mainly detached, separate lives from their offspring, despite the apparent love and empathy evident in the books. Young Christopher was brought up by a nanny- (a star turn by Kelly Macdonald, one of Scotland's finest acting talents.) then packed off to boarding school until he reached adulthood. Due to the fame of the books he had a problematic, unhappy time there and all the real warmth and love within the film appears in his instinctive natural connection with his down to earth nanny, not his aloof, stiff upper lip father or remote disconnected mother- a far better and more attentive influence throughout his life than the emotionless, stilted, self centered, and largely absent parents. It reminded me of Enid Blyton, another prolific children's author, who apparently had little interest or time for her own children- or maybe that was just the way it was in middle class households back then when parents led mostly separate lives from their children, if they could afford servants to look after them.
Although my own parents were not touchy feely types or very demonstrative I always knew I was loved, wanted, and cared for and despite growing up in a fairly rough deprived area I've often found warm hearted adults and children in abundance there, and throughout other districts in other cities worldwide and a great sense of fun, empathy and community: especially in the past when people had less possessions within each household to look after and had to depend far more on the kindness and understanding of similarly placed neighbours living around them.
The kind of repressed, stilted emotion, evident throughout the film is a completely alien concept to me, much rarer in working class districts I believe. Generally, they do not hide their hearts or emotions away behind a polished glass case. If they don't like you they'll soon tell you straight up to your face-without necessarily being rude about it- just matter of fact, letting you know where they stand... if they do like you then they let you know that as well. It's far more honest, speedy, and direct. Maybe having more money, personal independence, and as a result, less reliance on the charity of others, is the changing factor in society and communities.