Russians, so I’ve heard, have a joke that goes, “The future is predictable: it’s the past we can’t be sure of.” Notwithstanding the awful irony of this, I find it reassuring that there is such a thing as a Russian sense of humour at all, especially of the self-mocking variety. Unfortunately, it’s a cultural trait that doesn’t transfer universally to that nation’s citizens.
But, setting our conventional understanding of the time-line back to ‘normal’ for a while – the unknowable future versus whatever version of the past we have come to believe in – it is from its past that a nation derives the culture that equips it to tackle its future. But there is often resistance to change, regardless of its benefits, which can cause the past to be very persistent and for elements of it to hang around for longer than is desirable, as I have noted on my travels to some of the quieter parts of England.
A recent case in point is the Lancashire coastal town of Southport, in its day a fashionable seaside resort with grand buildings, extensive ornamental parks, lakes, parades and the second-longest pier in Britain. Most of it is still there, some of it is intact and all of it is a bit shabby. The main reason for the decline is that more holidaymakers choose, now that they can, to go abroad. For the local council, it’s a tough nut to crack: how do you revive the fortunes of a town? I don’t know the answer, but, speaking as a ‘metropolitan elitist’, I would suggest that ditching elements of the past and embracing the future would be the way to go. Which elements? Well, to be specific, the cuisine. Many of the eateries are firmly stuck in a tradition of unimaginative, unappetising and unhealthy food of the kind for which Britain rightly earned a grim reputation after WWII. Now, I know that a large part of the town’s population is elderly, retired and stuck in its dietary habits, but that is no reason not to move on. Lancashire is home to several Michelin-starred restaurants, with celebrity chefs creating dishes from abundant local produce. Could not Southport aspire to become the county’s gastronomic capital, as happened at Ludlow in Shropshire?
Still, there are other things happening. There is a sign of modernity in Victoria Park, home to the (famous) annual flower show, where a corner has been set aside for electric model-car racing. While I was there the British Radio Car Association was holding a two-day national competition for fearsomely fast 1/10th scale, battery-powered replicas of Formula 1 racing cars. A whole field was filled with marquees occupied by blokes buying and selling parts or fixing and tuning their little vehicles. I was told that the competition is bounded by just as many technical regulations as the grown-up one, the niceties of which would not be of interest to the casual spectator. In fact, spectators were few, which is not surprising given that the spills were not accompanied by thrills. The cars appeared indestructible and any that happened to flip over and lie immobile on its back like a beetle was quickly grabbed by a steward and tossed back into the melee.
After a while, I’d had enough and went to the refreshment truck in the faint hope that a flat white with oat juice might be had. But the caterer had his market sussed: think, geeky blokes obsessed with model cars, think bacon/sausage/egg butties, builders’ tea or instant coffee. From this perspective, the future does indeed look predictable.
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