Hanging on in quiet desperation is the English way


At least, according to seminal rock group “Pink Floyd”.

I think they were right in this, and there is some portion of the English soul that is inherently mournful, elegiac, and prone to melancholy, and our famed stoicism and dry humour are merely our failing coping methods. Probably something to do with the weather.

In this thread, please post pictures of melancholy English things, and when someone posts something that someone else recognises as a part of their own life they they are very fond of, we can have some beeves.





Deeply mournful.





Here is my Father barbecuing in the pissing rain on Sunday


I actually find this image quite cheering, that is a lovely pergola.


What is his bucket for?


Stuff that’s finished cooking (burned outside, pink inside)


It’s full of hot water and Fairy liquid in order to quickly wash his barbecuing tools when switching between different foodstuffs


what a pro!

(how are your folks liking the new gaff, btw?)


You may be interested to know that my Father typed up a list of considerations for me ahead of my ushering duties at my sister’s wedding. One item on the list was “You may want to consider discreetly bringing a bucket to the ceremony and hiding it away somewhere incase anyone feels sick unexpectedly”


I know where he got this idea


He is a true bucket advocate! I only really use my bucket for car washing (the mop bucket isn’t a traditional bucket).

I might start a bucket thread.


They absolutely fucking love it mate. Dead pleased for them, they just spend all their time morroxing about in the garden looking at nature and that. Also, I got the train there for the first time this weekend and it was actually extremely convenient so I was moaning for nothing.


I have a good news story relating to buckets to share if you do.


I would read a thread like that with interest


this is immensely satisfying to hear! i’m very pleased for you all! :slight_smile:


Eat my ass you numpty



Two things about this:
The point we’re all so unfathomably linked with a place we’ve lived all or most of our lives. Anecdotally I know of one French and one Belgian couple that moved from the country to an urban area in their dotage. Wouldn’t happen in this country.
Suspicion of authority and a craven desire for what we think of as fairness but in actual fact is acceptance of a hierarchy, with our betters at the top and e.g. overzealous council staff at bottom

EDIT: forgot to say this is the guy that refused to sell his house. So now he is encircled by the M62.