We have arrived in Bristol after 20 hour flight via Dubai to Heathrow and three trains. Economy flying sucks. Airports are the same everywhere. But the trains here are a pleasure. On time. Clean. Polite (the people and the persona of the trains). In fact polite best describes my experience of England thus far. London out of Heathrow is a bit grubby but in every other respect – from the neat countryside to officials at immigration – it is extremely polite. For example, a young gentleman was going around doing user surveys for a newspaper. I watched him move down the street and everyone he met politely stopped, politely gave him responses to his questionaire and he politely thanked them and went on his way. Amazing.
This could just be where we are staying. We are visiting with my sister in Bradley-Stoke. This is a pretty larney area in Bristol, mostly populated by upwardly mobile young professionals. The houses are large by British standards, tiny by SA standards and worth about R5 million. There are no walls. No one parks their cars in garages, although this could be because the garages are so small you can’t get out once you have parked your car. The gardens are all exquistately maintained. I felt that we were dragging down the neighbourhood by standing on the frontlawn. It has dedicated cycle lane and walking paths, with routes identifed by little yellow strips on the lampposts. The roadsigns politely indicate the numbers up the section of a street. There are kids going for walks by themselves.
It is extremely quiet. Right now I cannot here a sound.
It is also overwhelmingly homogenous. Everyone is white English. I have never been in a place where all the people are the same. I guess my ancestors we shocked by difference. I am shocked by sameness. It is really hard to pick my kids out on a playground.
I met a guy in the local pub who said he was from the wrong side of Bristol and that Bradley Stoke was hard getting used too because it is so quiet. He says it is also known as Sadly Broke. He has apparently given up the drugs and violence and told the mates that although he loves them he has to think of the future. So I have hope there is something else – although I hope it is not just British yob culture.
My friends abroad always complained that they missed South Africa’s edge and I used to say that edge is overrated. But I now know what they mean. This is really sterile. Most upsetting of all no-one wants to debate politics with me. Oh well. At least we are having good weather.
Oh yes, and there is a porn studio in one of the houses down the street. It is festooned with CCTV cameras and signs saying Beware German Sheperds. Go figure.
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