The great British quality of glum-transcendentalism

I had to endure two bus journeys in and out of central London during the tube strike today. Both were deeply unpleasant, the buses being crowded and the journey consisting of 10-yard lurches forward when the gridlocked traffic moved every five minutes or so. Having plenty of time to study my fellow passengers, I was struck by the way everyone looked resigned and vaguely unhappy, but also somehow resilient and self-contained. It was as if they had found ways of looking into themselves, thinking of other than the grim bus, and disconnecting from the situation; their pissed-offness was so complete that it had become a sort of negative serenity. It struck me that this was a quite a British quality. In France people would have grumbled, in Italy they would have rioted, in the US they would have at least talked to one another. In some ways these are healthier responses, but I do think this incredible glum transcendence  is something that helps us get through a great deal in life, from rain to broken-down trains to disappointingly stale overpriced sandwiches. The sigh, the raised eyes, and the forehead leant against the cold window with the rain outside; the attitude indicated by these gestures may be less inspiring than the - more than the fabled stiff upper lip or Blitz spirit, but it has done just as much for national honour and prestige. I raise a cup a lukewarm tea to it.