Something has been niggling me this last couple
of weeks. Something not quite remembered, but somehow familiar, if I could just
put my finger on it.
I finally remembered a few days ago. In
about 1970 I saw a film, Spring and Port
Wine, which starred James Mason - good film, in fact - of its time. A gritty
domestic comedy set in Bolton (Lancashire, industrial North West of England),
written by the excellent Bill Naughton. [It is interesting to recall, in passing,
that James Mason was born in Huddersfield, so, even though he was always Rommel
really, he did have some credentials for a provincial role.]
Anyway - Mason plays a well-intentioned but
domineering father - very heavy - and things come to a bit of a head when his teenage
daughter (played by Susan George) turns up her nose one evening at the herring
which is served up for her tea. With much preaching about how lucky she is to
have a herring at all, and how many people would be delighted to have such a
herring, the father decrees that it will be served up again tomorrow, and the
next day - there will be no choice. The damned herring will appear daily (presumably)
until she eats it.
Any bells ringing? At the time, we all
thought the father was a bit pig-headed, but what did we know? Nowadays, this
would be regarded as a valid negotiation, apparently. You will be offered the
same fish every day until you realise how wrong you have been to refuse it, or until
the alternatives become so unbearably awful that you change your mind.
I can't remember how the story line
developed - must watch it again - I can't recall if there was a
backstop Plan B to cover the possibility that she never ate it. Presumably the
father knew he was right, and that right would prevail. Strength and stability.
Must try and get hold of the film - I need to remind myself what happened...
***** (Very) Late Edit *****
OK - OK - a number of people sent me chasers - it seems that they, too want to know what happened in the end. Very sketchy synopsis follows.
Things become more tense, the herring disappears, mysteriously, both daughters leave home (the younger one, she with the herring problem, turns out to be pregnant). The mother pawns the father's best overcoat to get some cash for the younger daughter, the father finds out, goes ballistic and the mother moves out too.
Not before time, the father has some kind of inspirational moment, and he determines to change - he realises that his family are far more important than his principles. The film ends before he makes much progress, but we can see where he's headed.
As for the herring, it seems likely that the kid brother gave it to the cat. At this point, I'm struggling to sustain the extended analogy, so let's drop the matter and get back to the bunker.
***************************
***** (Very) Late Edit *****
OK - OK - a number of people sent me chasers - it seems that they, too want to know what happened in the end. Very sketchy synopsis follows.
Things become more tense, the herring disappears, mysteriously, both daughters leave home (the younger one, she with the herring problem, turns out to be pregnant). The mother pawns the father's best overcoat to get some cash for the younger daughter, the father finds out, goes ballistic and the mother moves out too.
Not before time, the father has some kind of inspirational moment, and he determines to change - he realises that his family are far more important than his principles. The film ends before he makes much progress, but we can see where he's headed.
***************************
Nicely done Tony, I like that.
ReplyDeleteOf course Rommel's chief of staff Simon Wiesenthal thought that James Mason's portrayal was "too polite".
ReplyDeleteI wonder if the proposition in the film is also too reasonable compared to the real life situation to which you allude.....;-)
Mmmm ! Susan George !!!
ReplyDeleteWell he might have been the desert fox, but you're a sly old fox, for producing such a timely parallel. Lol.
ReplyDeleteBeing served up food that you didn’t eat at the next meal isn’t normal? Someone should have told me mother...
ReplyDeleteHerring for tea. Kippers for Brexit, I mean breakfast?
ReplyDeleteThank you, gentlemen. I did contribute a further comment myself, but realised that it might upset the Brexunculi, who are stressed enough already, so suppressed it.
ReplyDeleteKedgeree backstop?
ReplyDeleteThe kippers... even after this length of time would seem more palatable...
ReplyDeleteAll the best. Aly
Having listened to this morning's news, I have relented a bit on the "no comment" front. It seems that there are now moves afoot to stage a ritual beheading of Mother Theresa, as some kind of bargaining token. By whom? Bargaining with whom? Over what? While I could happily see the woman far enough, it does seem to me that the disaster of her premiership (and it has, let's face it, been extreme enough to attract worldwide disbelief) has been down to her own thunderous incompetence, rather than any conscious malice or desire for personal gain on her part.
ReplyDeleteHaving heard a quick run-through of the potential replacements for the post, and the reasons for their validity, I find that I am once again bewildered. I am less convinced of the motives of some of these heroes. There also seems to be an astonishing amount of confusion between the internal procedures and buddy networks surrounding the Conservative Party and the democratic traditions and rules which are supposed to run Parliament in the best interests of the electorate.
In many ways, I am grateful that I am too stupid to understand all this stuff, and am forced simply to place my trust in the good judgement, integrity and wisdom of our noble leaders. Let me know when it's safe to switch the radio back on.
Unconvinced by the motives, eh? I can't help but think that it's a shame Machiavelli isn't around any more - he'd have got a whole series of books out of this lot.
DeleteIncidentally, does Norway+ involve free movement of Vikings? I'm not sure that worked so well last time.
At least you knew where you stood with Vikings. They didn't claim they were defending the wishes of the people, they just killed you and pinched your daughters. Vikings were very active around here, and we seem to be doing OK now. Mind you, no-one answers the door after dark.
DeleteWell, this is true. There is virtue in having people who are up front about what they are up to. Things were done better in the old days.
DeleteI hear the leading dramatis personae have all been invited to Chequers to decide who the next PM will be - the Daily Telegraph or Rupert Murdoch.
The DUP only like fish if it's battered and with chips.
ReplyDelete(I'm sure this works on many levels as a metaphor, but I honestly can't see it yet).
The DUP is the most unfathomable bit of all this to me. They seem to have committed themselves to a situation where there is no border (even an implied one) between NI and the rest of the UFK, which is OK as far as it goes, yet there can ultimately be no alternative to a hard border between NI and the Republic. Since I don't understand much of this, I'll just accept their priorities as stated. Does seem odd though. We are lucky that the Daily Mail will be able to explain to us all how this is going to work.
DeleteIn passing, I was fascinated to hear a Conservative MP on the radio yesterday (29 Mar) whingeing about how Mrs May's proposed deal was "not what they had all been promised". What? Promised by whom? Johnson? Farage? Redwood? Ethelred the Unready? Since no-one has ever been able to agree what it was they were actually arguing about, and since the Brexit concept has never been satisfactorily defined, I don't see how there can ever have been promises - there have been a lot of falsehoods, a lot of wildly extrapolated theories and a lot of wishful thinking. Promises, no. If any elected member of HM Govt believes he has been promised something, then I hope he doesn't find out about Santa Claus, or he'll be devastated.
I am very scared, to tell the truth. The only thing which appears with any clarity out of all this shambles is that the UK's democratic and parliamentary set-up is broken beyond repair, it is no longer fit for purpose, even on a good day, and we really need something new. How we make any change peaceably, and without the situation becoming just a huge shit-fight fuelled by the ever-present greed and self interest is not apparent.
I don't believe the country exists for the benefit of the Conservative Party, though Mrs M seems to have been fixated on this idea. We need a complete new operation. And spare us the bogey-man tales about Brussels usurping our legal system and our sovereignty (which begins to sound like the loony in Braveheart) - there are a great many of us who trust Brussels far more than we trust Miss Bentham's Class at Westminster. Believe it.
Very quick off the mark, Prof De Vries makes the point that at least Miss Bentham's Class does not have Farage as a sitting member - a point I would be prepared to concede, but the Professor is a bloody foreigner, so I shall ignore him.
DeleteTime to re-invent all those stereotypes of Russians with furry hats, Frenchmen eating snails, Germans bombing my granddad's pigeons. Foreigners. There - that feels better already.
Kippers, Herring or not; Parliament is still holding its breath and refusing to look at the plate until pudding is produced. No-one can agree if it should be plum Duff, Eton Mess, or a soufflee.
ReplyDeleteKind regards, Chris.
Excellently said, Chris. The fact that the chef tried not to publish a menu before the meal hasn't helped a lot, but what a lot of spoiled children!
Delete