Keeping Up Appearances

Part of the terrace of Bistro de Schilder on
Jan Van Eyckplein. The paving was also 
renewed earlier this year, courtesy of the commune.
The pavement is a contemporary work of art.

As I wander the Bruggean streets, I keep noticing the eye-catching results of considerable efforts on the part of owners of restaurants, cafes, bars, hotels, to beautify their outside spaces and add extra appeal for visitors and tourists. Almost every terrace on the Markt, for instance, can boast flowering plants in containers, little trees in large pots, greenery and floral flourishes in one guise or another.. It is aesthetically delightful and Covid with Lockdown can take much of the credit. It is a significant celebration in an already beautiful little city; rather like a splendidly accoutred dowager pinning a luscious rose in her hair, to be noticed!

The indefatigable Hyacinth and long-suffering spouse,
Richard.
"My name was always Bucket before I met you."

As I wrote the above title, I welcomed the familiar phrase from long ago, one which always raises a smile. Obviously, as I wrote the heading, I was thinking of Brugge polishing up its image, but the smile which generally accompanies that expression comes from the inevitable association with a 90s TV sitcom with that title. Instantly, happily, one remembers Hyacinth Bucket [ALWAYS pronounced, incorrectly, Bouquet!] a snob and social climber, played exquisitely in the series by Patricia Routledge. Hyacinth, monstrous though she was but so fondly recalled, was an almost divine inspiration for the still-class-conscious Brits; she was perfectly formed, psychologically, for any class-based social minefield as she desperately tries to hide her working class roots and emphasise her ‘poshness’. She always answers her phone thus, “The Bouquet residence; the lady of the house speaking.” There is always a Northern under

Undesirable Onslow in perpetual vest and cap.

-current to her working class, attempted RP [Received Pronunciation] as she struggles to impress others with her refinement and pretended affluence. She adores to give ‘executive-style’ candlelit suppers with her Royal Worcester Avignon plus the Royal Doulton china with “the hand-painted periwinkles.” She desperately tries to hide her ghastly lower-class sisters, Judy and Rose; the latter being a sexy man-eater, and almost certainly, promiscuous to boot. And of course, there is Judy’s proudly unemployed slob of a husband, Onslow, who lives on Benefits! In fact, Onslow, sofa-bound, proudly unshaven and definitely unbowed, becomes Hyacinth’s nemesis throughout the series. The trio turns up, from time to time, unexpectedly, [obviously they are never invited] often with Hyacinth’s senile father, conveyed in a totally run-down, scruffy Ford Cortina; NOT a car for anyone in the aspiring middle class. They are unfailingly, indeed proudly, working class, lacking any social pretensions whatsoever and are deeply embarrassing to status-conscious Hyacinth, Meanwhile, Richard, [Clive Swift] her husband who tolerates her rather than loving her, tenaciously continues his long-suffering endurance made even more difficult when he has to take early retirement from his Council job. and he is home all day.

Rose, unashamedly sexy
and available. But not 
in a middle class way!

Onslow's finely-tuned Ford Cortina.

Hyacinth’s much-loved son Sheridan, about whose intellectual prowess she frequently boasts, despite the fact that he is following a course on embroidery at a Polytechnic, lives with his friend. Tarquin. Hyacinth is blissfully unaware of her son’s real relationship with his flat-mate who makes his own curtains, wears silk pyjamas and has won prizes for his embroidery. Though never clarified, Richard’s calm manner over Sheridan suggests that perhaps the son has confided his real sexuality to his father. Meanwhile, Hyacinth boasts about the frequent letters and phone calls from her son, implying their close relationship, though in truth dear Sheridan never writes and only phones when he needs money.

Rose, Hyacinth and Judy.

A gracious wave Goodbye, from Hyacinth