Sunday, 2 January 2011

the horrors, the horrors

I know that I was extraordinarily lucky to sneak into London, and then out again (to Sydney, Australia) a few days later, without being buried in snow for days at Heathrow.  All my sympathies go to the many people I met who had horribly delayed holidays, and I won't even be smug about how much better Moscow airports deals with bad weather. But - I was reminded of that specifically English characteristic of complaining; of always being ready to be offended at the the slightest alteration to the assumed smoothness of things; of an excess of sensitivity that someone else might be jumping the queue, getting a better deal. What is this English habit of for ever being ready to be cross about something?

Unlike the Russians I know who always expect the worst to happen.

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