A Christmas with the English
// January 6th, 2010 // People, Uncategorized, cultural differences
One thing you can say about the English, we’re pretty good friends with politeness. Politeness is our first, middle and last name. Just a simple act like buying a pre-packaged sandwich (a daily occurrence) requires at least six of them, a please, four thank-you’s and a cheers will normally suffice to not appear rude and mean spirited. Now bear in mind that is social etiquette when you are buying something, an act in which you actually do the seller a favour not the other way round, they should be the ones thanking you, which of course they will do, repeatedly, assuming they are proper Brits. Nothing is more important to us than
a) being polite
b) not causing offense
c) being seen to be polite and not cause offense
Yes I”m hinting here with c) that it’s not always a case of genuine desire not to offend, this is what makes us so good at subtext and intonation which is what I think gives us our very refined humour. Although I also heard that it’s because we went very quickly from being the worlds colonial super-power, to near irrelevance in record time. You take that badly, or you take it with humility and humour. Easy come, easy go.
Of course when I give this little talk about the traits of the English I’m talking about the English middle class here, the lower class pikey chav clan you’ll know all about, but it’s the middle class of any country that usual give it its positive traits, the lower class provide the negative, the upper class are pretty much the same sorry bunch the world over, at least that’s what I think.
With all that discussed and agreed upon, now think about Christmas. Shouldn’t be too hard we just had it. What happens at Christmas? People give you stuff. Now just imagine how much enthusiasm is required when someone takes the time to personally select, wrap and deliver something to you! Then they’ll probably have the cheek to expect you to open it in front of them! Now you are in a pickle, you better show some serious appreciation, superlatives, love and thanks better rain down all over that gift and its giver. Even if it’s the pervy Uncle you’ve not seen in 5 years and is not even in the room, English social etiquette dictates that you act as if the Mickey Mouse socks he bought have unexpectedly ended your pursuit for life’s deeper meaning.
I’m reminded of this because I had forgotten this, logical huh? I was away last Christmas, Annett and I were in Australia and so it had been two years since I’d experienced a Fletcher family Christmas, which I’m going to assume is not uncommon to other English Christmas of my fellow island monkeys.
Firstly, my family exchange a lot of gifts, easily over one hundred and twenty and that’s not an exaggeration, I’ve done the math. We usual wait until mid morning, after everyone has had time for a few cups of tea, then we get in a circle and round we go. Next year I will count exactly how many times people say “nice” or “thanks” in this one session, my guess would be near one thousand, and yes again, I’ve done the math. You can thank the women of the family for the vast majority of that though, being women they’ve got a little more to offer than men in terms of feelings and emotions. I like to think of emotions like a music. A set of individual instruments, noises, rhythms which when combines correctly produce beautiful sounds. I like to think that women are delivered their own personal emotional orchestra at birth. It’s hard to tell an individual instrument apart from the main, so when something is off it can take a long time to figure out exactly what it is that dragging the whole ensemble down. For many years it was all just noise, an uncontrollable wall of noise, but then they get better at understanding the various parts and what to listen and what to block out to make the best music. In contrast I think men are delivered two spoons and a thigh and told to get on with it. One spoon represents horny, the other hungry and from there we try to make the best of it. Okay let’s get back on point, I gotta learn to avoid these long sidetracking detours. Back on point Adam. Right, so we are in the circle, our presents are in a massive bag each at our feet.
Bear in mind this cycle will repeat until all the presents are opened and then for several hours more as you slowly revisit each one to reiterate again just how much you love them.
Mum: “Right, who is going to go first then?”
silence (another English trait, avoid the spotlight, resist being the center of attention)
Mum: “Dad? Ad? Gem?”
Gem: “Okay I’m excited I can’t wait, I’ll have the first one. Thanks everyone, so many presents, we are so lucky aren’t we?”
Collectively: ‘Yes, definitely, (trailing off) oh yes. Umm….’
Gem: “Which present should I pick? Ohh. Let’s go for this one”
(selects gift)Mum: “Can you guess what it is?”
Gem: “No clue. But I’m sure I’ll love it.”
Mum: “I’ve still got the receipt so if it’s not right it can go back, no problem. I’m not sure you’re going to like it now, I think it might be a bit of a boo boo present. Can you guess now?”
I should interject here to tell you that despite this little game of ‘can you guess what it is yet’ you are absolutely not allowed to guess correctly even if you know absolutely with the certainty of Jobe what lies under that wrapping. To get it right could upset the gift giver who knows the mystery is over, their gift giving predictability exposed to the group. So you would guess around it instead, if you think its a DVD say a book? Pocket-sized Ethiopian? Hand flannel? What you guess is not really important, just don’t guess right. Back to it…
Gem: “I have no idea”
Mum: “have a guess”
Gem: “seaweed?!”
Mum: “not even close”
She’s got half the wrapping off now. It begins….
Gem: “oh wow….that’s great”
Mum: “If you don’t like it, you can take it back no problem. I’ve got the receipt.”
Gem: “No, it’s very me, I love it. Great. Perfect. What exactly is it?
Nan: “If I’d seen it I’d of bought that for you.”
Mum: “It’s a holder for your bag you take it with you and use this to clip it to a table or desk.”
Gem: “Oooh brilliant. That’s great. Cos otherwise so many germs collect on the bottom of your handbag. That’s brilliant. Great. Look at that everyone? Did you see that yet? Dad? Did you see?”
Dad: “Very nice.”
Gem: “Did you see that yet Kathers?”
Kathers: “Oh great. I love it. What it is?”
Gem: “It’s a clip for your bag.”
Kathers: “Brilliant.”
Nan: “Oh I get it now, a clip for your bag, brilliant. Whatever will they think of next? Great.”
Gem: “Chuffed with that. A real humdinger. Oh that’s a nice colour. Oh yeah. Very nice. Yeah very nice, great, thank you. Wonderful.”
Mum: “I’m wasn’t sure if you’re were going to like it or not, but I thought it was very you with the colour and stuff and with you having a bag and not liking dirt and that, phew that’s a relief.”
Gem: “Who’s opening next? Ad, your go ay.”
Mum: “Hang on, first is someone making a cuppa?”
Collectively: “Oh yeah, I’m gasping.”
The funniest moment from my gift opening was when Kev gave me these:
I didn’t start laughing. I just looked at them and then everyone was looking at me like I wasn’t grasping something. Being a sweet sugar coated ball of innocence I was saying “Big Chicken? Big. Chicken.” in my head was:
back and forth, back and forth. Is it an insult? I was groping in the dark for the deeper meaning when I was shut down by Mum shouting “COCK!” at me. Hang on?!? I’m not the quickest but there’s no need to be mean. “Cock, it means Big Cock”.
Ahhhh…..
Incase you ever have to open a present in the company of the English I’ve produced this handy flowchart which should help you (click it to view full size).
Possibly related, hopefully entertaining other posts:
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michel
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Gem
