Wed Feb 25, 2004 1:19 pm by Indy11
Thanks Taw. I thought it was too easy to link to the NYTimes.
Article portion excerpted below.... I think you should get the flavor from this. After opening about a rail accident in Carnforth.......
Mournful talk of the railways, of course, is a staple of
public discourse, particularly on the crammed commuter
trains that lurch into London each day, or along the drafty
platforms of countless railroad stations becalmed by delays
and cancellations across the land.
But as television's treatment of the Tebay deaths showed,
the debate evokes deep and conflicting memories beyond mere
commuter grumblings, reaching into the way Britons see the
state of their nation.
At a theater in London a new play by David Hare, called
"The Permanent Way," tells the story of the four crashes
from Southall in 1997 to Potters Bar in 2002 as an angry
tirade against the government's decision in the 1990's to
sell off the once state-owned railways to private companies
- a "painful parable," Mr Hare said, of bad government.
By contrast, at this onetime rail hub, 250 miles northwest
of London, volunteers have rebuilt the station tearoom to
resemble its erstwhile appearance as the set of the 1945
movie "Brief Encounter" - a tale of thwarted longing and
infinite sorrow starring Celia Johnson and Trevor Howard,
whose trackside yearnings seem peculiarly relevant to
Britain's often forgotten romance with its railroads. Even
the station clock that figures in the film, built in 1880,
has been restored to functioning splendor.
"People come here for nostalgia," said Jane Quinn, the
owner of the tearoom. "They come because years ago they met
here and now want to come back."
But it is precisely that interplay of generations that
helps define one aspect of modern Britain, tugging the
nation's heartstrings between a past cloaked ever more in
the myths of time and a present that has learned its
lessons of instant celebrity so well from the United States
that it has begun to re-export them.
In a television competition last year, viewers were still
sufficiently enamored of their history to vote Winston
Churchill the greatest Briton ever. But so-called "reality"
television spectacles like "I'm a Celebrity Get Me Out of
Here" offer the nation new icons in the form of C-list
celebrities reanointed in the pantheons of transient fame.
If Churchill defined one notion of Britain and America
marching in lock step, consider a more recent Atlantic
crossing: shows like "American Idol" ("Pop Idol" in
Britain) or even "Big Brother" made their debut in Britain
before taking their brand of quick-fix fame to the United
States.