Good God, it’s nearly February. How time flies. The best is passed the past is best. Continuing my thoughts of No.10, which are hopefully less confused than THAT Number 10, I might just drift into some politically extremely incorrect areas. So fasten your seat belts, tighten your chin straps and raise shields. No.10 Part 2.
Britain. For those of us who knew this green and pleasant land in the 1950’s and ’60’s, the urban and rural environment has changed almost beyond recognition. For the better? It’s a much more crowded Island now, with too many people, too many cars on groaning roads, multiculturalism that we didn’t need and I suspect if we’re all being totally honest many didn’t want, ……..
Unlike Magnus Magnusson and John Humphreys I started but I didn’t finish! No mastermind in this chair. It’s now 1st February and I’m depressed at the road I was going down so here’s a change of subject.
Twice in quick succession this morning I was hit by “Chelsea”. Not a Clinton protege, rather two very diverse, but British “Chelseas”. The first was as I wandered lonely in the crowd. (with apologies to William Wordsworth) Sticking out from the busy shoppers was an unmistakable apparition; the archetypal football fan. Sporting a closely shaven haircut and a gut big enough to hold twins, it was the all engulfing blue jacket with the distinctive Chelsea Football Club badge that gave him away. Like most football clubs Chelsea have long since cleaned up their act since those grim days when Stamford Bridge tried to re-enact the 1066 battle on a regular basis. I still can’t help feeling a slight shudder though when I see that badge. The Royal Borough of Kensington and Chelsea is synonymous with style, quality, chic and fun. Harrods, Peter Jones, Harvey Nicks, The King’s Road, Sloanes, great restaurants, pubs and clubs, you name it, you can probably find it there. But a decade or three back, Saturday shopping was limited to Chelsea FC away games. The Blues at home almost invariably meant trouble and if you weren’t particularly attracted by the thrills of gang warfare a nice quiet day in North London was probably a better option. Unless Arsenal were at home to Spurs of course.
Whether this vision of loveliness, who was unleashing his expert opinion on anyone who wanted to listen, was a genuine supporter or just an armchair fan who will talk all day about “we”, despite never having kicked a ball in anger, let alone played for the Reserves, I have no way of knowing.
The second Chelsea, which happened along only a few minutes later, relates to boots. I was admiring a natty pair on a stylish friend when it occurred to me that they must be a foot fashion item with greater longevity than almost any other. I remember when they first hit the shelves, in the 1960’s I think although it may have been earlier, causing quite a stir with their simple elegance allied with practicality, comfort and durability. I supposed they’ve drifted in and out of fashion a bit, without ever really going away. I still have a beautiful tan pair that I’ve had for about thirty years. That’s peanuts though compared with a pair of patent leather dress shoes I acquired in 1970 and they’re still in perfect shape. I also still have a lovely set of white tie and tails that belonged to my Grandfather, so probably made in the 1930’s. Sadly, with so much built in obsolescence these days I suspect such feats of sartorial fortitude will not be repeated.
Whether it’s soccer or boots, Chelsea continues to play a significant role in our daily lives. Anyone for a bun?
ADayInTheStrifeOf 