As the Christmas season approaches we look at a number of potential pitfalls for hosts. We all know that laying on a lunch or dinner party can be a daunting prospect, but it is likely to go much more smoothly if you plan ahead, cook within the limits of your abilities and do as much preparation as possible before your guests arrive.
Here is a faux-pas checklist to guide you through the festive season:
It’s always a good idea to check out if your guests are allergic to any particular foods when you invite them. Also check if they’re prone to food intolerances. This might mean you’re left with an unwieldy list of sanctioned foods, violent dislikes or dietary no-nos, but at least you’ll be forewarned and can plan evasive action beforehand.
Make sure you allow enough time to de-clutter your house, remove any domestic debris (scattered shoes, discarded toys, drying laundry), and clear a space for guests’ coats – you don’t want to keep people standing around in the hall in their coats for longer than necessary. Giving a lunch or dinner party is a bit of performance and you need to ensure that the stage is set.
It is reassuring for guests to arrive at a house which is neat and tidy, with the table laid and ready and delicious cooking smells wafting in from the kitchen. If they arrive to find an empty table and a distracted host, they may well be filled with the grim realisation that they in for a long, and chaotic, evening.
Check your cutlery carefully when you’re laying the table – we’ve all seen how dishwashers can occasionally bake food fragments on to utensils rather than washing them off.
Make sure you have more than enough food and wine to last the evening – nothing is worse than having a panicked host announcing that they’ve just got to ‘nip down to the shops’.
Giving a dinner party can be a stressful affair and it’s very tempting to lay into the wine before the guests even arrive. If you’re drunk, it will certainly impair your abilities to serve a complex meal and get the timings right – you may end up burning the main course or forgetting the cheese altogether.
If you don’t plan a sensible menu and do as much preparation as possible beforehand you may find yourself chained to the cooker for much of the evening. This is very boring for you, but it is also uncomfortable for the guests, who will be worried about their host’s absence and may be forced to fend for themselves.
Oysters and mussels are a delicious treat, but if a few bad ones sneak in the gastric consequences will be horrible, so it might be safest to avoid them. If you’re cooking meat, remember that only single cuts of lamb or beef should be cooked rare. In all other cases (especially burgers) ensure that the meat is well cooked.
If you’re serving a magnificent joint of beef or a whole fish, you want it to be admired in all its glory. Plating it up on a highly decorated serving platter will obliterate its impact and make it look like a mess. Plain white dishes will set off your culinary creations.
Red wines are rich in tannins, which will taste horrible if the wine is too cold. Make sure you bring the wine up to room temperature, or a degree or two above.
You may be serving red meat and savouring the prospect of a robust Bordeaux. But some people can’t bear red wine, and just because you can’t contemplate a white wine in these circumstances doesn’t mean you should refuse to serve it. Give your guests a choice.
It’s easy to overlook the people who won’t be drinking when you’re planning a convivial evening. So make sure that you’ve got something to offer them – elderflower cordial or sparkling mineral water are a reliable stand-by – and put large jugs of tap water on the table (wine-drinkers will appreciate this too.)
It’s tempting, once the main course has been served, to sit back and relax and let events take their course. But if you’re hosting, you’re on duty for the duration, and that means ensuring that the courses follow on in a stately progression – with a reasonable pause in-between – and the drinks keep flowing, including after-dinner offers of tea and coffee. Stay alert for empty glasses and don’t let long hiatuses develop.
Etiquette may not be at the forefront of most parents’ minds when a baby is on its way but there are British cultural traditions about announcing births, and it is always helpful to remind yourself (well before the birth) of traditional customs. Inevitably, personal style will always play a major role when it comes to the choices of any given family, and there is no right or wrong way of announcing the arrival of a baby. Social media now plays an important role, and some couples will opt to go down this contemporary, rather than the traditional, route.
Traditionally, it is the father’s responsibility to spread the good news, but a grandparent or other relation often shares the duty. Immediate family and close friends should be informed as soon as possible by phone; it is sensible to prepare a list in advance of those nearest and dearest that require a phone call.
Other family and friends can then be contacted and it is customary to use other media – for example, text message or email – to spread the word. It is essential that the most important people have learnt of the news in person before it is announced on social media sites.
Cards, sometimes complete with a coloured ribbon (or a photograph), may be sent out at a slightly later stage. There are myriad designs available, so you can choose a design, or use your own photograph, and order personalised cards online. Conventionally, this card would contain the following information: parents’ names, baby’s full name, date and time of birth, place of birth, weight (if desired). Often, this may double up as a thank-you card if a present has been received.
If there are complications, the announcement may be delayed until the health or wellbeing of the mother and baby are known.
Birth announcements in the paper are traditionally very simple and succinct. Announcements are usually confined to the broadsheets – effectively The Times and Daily Telegraph, though fewer people now do both – or, if appropriate, a local newspaper.
A traditional announcement would read:
Mayhew – On 20th December to Richard and Emily (née Berkeley), a daughter, Olivia Anne.
Unmarried couples will use both parents’ first name(s) and surname. For example:
Maddox – On 20th December to Richard Maddox and Ilsa Curzon, a daughter, Alice Louise.
Single parents may use only one parent’s name. For example:
Jameson – On 20th August to Rebecca a son, Gabriel Paul.
If it is not a first child the sibling may be named (for example, ‘a sister for Joanna’) and occasionally the hospital (certain fashionable private London hospitals include the announcements in their package and always name themselves). Thanks to the medical team are less traditional but may be included and may reflect particular circumstances.
It used to be rare to announce the adoption of a child but is now much less so. Some parents choose to send out cards and the traditional wording would read:
Mr and Mrs Berkeley wish to announce the arrival of Thomas Edward into their lives.
A less formal and more contemporary version might be:
Edward and Charlotte Berkeley are thrilled to announce the homecoming of their son Thomas Edward.
There are no conventions that govern announcing a birth on Facebook, Instagram, Twitter and so on, and the style and wording of the announcement will be very much dictated by the people involved. However, there are some issues that should be taken into consideration:
• It is a good idea to plan ahead when it comes to announcing the birth on social media. If they are inveterate users of social media, both parents need to agree a coordinated approach – a mother would be understandably annoyed to find that her partner has posted a blow-by-blow account of her labour on social media before she has even had a chance to announce the birth. Decide which platform/s you will using, work out the wording and decide what you want to do about photos.
• If you’re a friend of the new parents, you must not steal their thunder by announcing the birth to the world on social media. It’s quite common for parents to wait before making a public announcement, as they want to be sure that everything has gone well.
• If your friends have posted images of their new baby, you will of course want to like or comment. But you must not re-share the photograph on your own page – the new parents may be understandably annoyed to hear that pictures of their child are being displayed to total strangers.
• You can always take it offline – a heartfelt text to the new parents might well be a more direct and intimate way of expressing your excitement.
World Hello Day, on November 21st, is celebrated by 180 countries and is intended to illustrate the importance of personal communication in preserving peace. On this day people are encouraged to participate by greeting ten people, preferably strangers.
The positive benefits of briefly interacting with strangers – engaging in eye contact, smiling and exchanging greetings – are incontrovertible. This simple transaction brings with it a pulse of pleasure, a feeling of being noticed and acknowledged, and an affirmation of the belief that humans are fundamentally civilised.
In the country, these pleasant greetings are workaday. In fact, the Countryside Code of 2021 explicitly advises us to “be nice, say hello, share the space”. Life moves at a slower pace in the countryside, so there is more time for pleasantries and for passing the time of day. When you are out walking, it is normal to greet others even if you do not know them, with a cheerful “hello”, “good morning” or “good afternoon”. On a deserted footpath or windswept hill, where fellow humans are a rarity, it is quite acceptable to prolong the contact by making a friendly remark about the weather, the beautiful view, the toughness of the climb, the muddiness of the paths and so on. These encounters are a heart-warming aspect of country life.
On crowded city streets, however, it is a very different story. Buffeted by fellow pedestrians, deafened by traffic thundering past, acutely aware of a range of hazards – from wheelchair users and buggies to young children and oblivious texters – we are likely to beetle along, with our heads down, or with our eyes fixed, refusing to acknowledge our fellow citizens. The Germans have a term for this blank-eyed gaze – wie Luft behandeln – which means “to be looked at as if you are air”, in other words, invisible.
It is undeniable that one of the main reasons for this willed invisibility is anxiety. We are worried that engaging in eye contact will lead to a more prolonged encounter, possibly with someone who is eccentric, threatening or alarming. We fear that our overtures of friendship will be met by routine “What are you looking at?” aggression. This is perfectly obvious on public transport, where there is a near-universal refusal to engage in eye contact or conversation – an unwritten law that is only broken in exceptional circumstances, such as breakdown or cancellation.
Mobile phones have become indispensable props when we do not want to engage. If we fear we are being stared at or are anxious that a stranger might be about to launch into a conversation, we can always rely on our phones. As soon as we start staring at the screen, and especially if we are also sporting headphones, we are impregnable, wrapped in our own cloak of invisibility.
So, if you’re a harassed city-dweller, how are you going to rack up your ten hellos on Monday 21st (and the rest of the year)? The answer is to humanise all your transactions and encounters, and to ensure that you politely acknowledge the myriad people who are offering you a service. Start with a cheerful “Good morning” – this could be addressed to your neighbour as you walk to the bus, the refuse collector who is emptying your bin or sweeping up the autumn leaves, the postman who’s delivering your letters, the bus driver as you tap in, the barista at the coffee shop, the doorman or receptionist at your office building. If you are waiting for a lift and the doors open to reveal that it is already occupied, offer a friendly greeting to the occupants.
Ensure that you greet anyone who is serving you in a retail context, whether it is a convenience store, petrol station, supermarket checkout, or upmarket boutique. When you first encounter them, say “hello” or “hi” and recognise their presence with a friendly smile – there’s really no need to make them feel part of the wallpaper. These are all transactions that you will be having anyway, so you might as well make the effort to turn a mundane encounter into a friendly exchange.
If you’re eating your sandwich on a park bench, take the time to smile and greet the person who sits down next to you. Say “hello” to dog-walkers and people with small children – as long as your greeting is accompanied by a warm smile, they will assume that you are charmed by their dogs/babies and will not react defensively.
All these random encounters are seemingly minor moments in your day, but they will all contribute to an aura of positivity, a feeling of connection and appreciation. You are probably already well aware that when you are the receiving end of a friendly greeting, you also experience a gratifying buzz of acknowledgement, the consciousness that you have been noticed, not overlooked.
It’s a very simple task to put a smile on a stranger’s face and it’s also fundamentally good manners.
Many of us will panic on being presented with a prehistoric-looking crustacean, or a flawless whole fish, complete with a glassy-eyed stare. We are aware that penetrating the hard carapace or extracting the delicate fish from the seemingly pervasive bones, is a dining challenge like no other. It involves skill, dexterity and the use of special implements. Our etiquette experts have put together a simple guide to eating fish and shellfish; we’ve also taken a look at some fascinating utensil history.
Until the 19th century, food at British dinner parties was served on large communal platters, requiring the host to carve joints and hand round plates. This all changed from the 1850s onward with the advent of service à la Russe. Separate courses were handed to the diners by servants; the stately progression of courses from soup to fish to meat to game to vegetables, followed by cheese and dessert, placed a new stress on the (now relatively uncluttered) table. Elaborate centrepiece decorations were de rigueur, there was a proliferation of specialist crockery, cutlery and glassware for each course, and diners were always presented with a menu card to help them navigate their way through this complex ritual. Clearly the etiquette challenges of polite dining were multiplying.
The fish knife first made its appearance during this period. The knife blade had a curved sharp edge, designed for sliding between the skin and the flesh of the fish. The broad blade was used to lift the fish to the fork, while its relatively sharp point could be used to lift small bones away from the flesh. The wide surface could also be used to scrape up, or spread any sauce served with the fish. The fish knife, which replaced the more traditional custom of using two forks to eat fish, became a much sought-after utensil, especially amongst the rising middle-classes who aspired to a gentrified way of dining. By the end of the First World War, however, fish knives had fallen from fashion, at least for the upper classes who had always tended to look down on them and preferred to wield two forks to fillet a fish. You may still encounter a fish knife and fork these days, but it is by no means inevitable.
Other specialist implements include lobster picks (or forks), which are used to extricate tender morsels of meat from the inaccessible nooks and crannies of the prepared lobster.
Lobster picks are used to remove tender slices of meat from the small nooks and crannies of the prepared lobster. They are generally made of stainless steel. One end is moulded into a two-pronged fork, or a sharp pick, which can be used for stabbing the meant. The other end may be shaped into a small spoon, ideal for scooping out meat from small spaces. Lobster picks, also called seafood picks, can be used for other seafood such as crabs and crawfish.
Finally, you may well encounter a seafood cracker, very similar in design to a nutcracker. This is simply used to crack the claws of lobsters and crabs, enabling you to use your fork or a seafood pick to access the meat within.
• Lobster
A whole lobster in its shell will typically arrive at the table already cut into two halves, allowing easy access to the flesh. Use a knife and fork, or just a fork, while holding the shell steady with the hand. The big claws usually come cracked but if not, use special lobster crackers and then pull out the meat with a fork. If you want to get meat out of the smaller parts, use a lobster pick. Too much digging can look greedy and messy but too little may seem unappreciative, so aim for a balance.
• Whole Crab
Eating a whole crab is not for the faint-hearted – even with the correct implements it is a messy business requiring a degree of manual dexterity, so if you’re at all nervous about your ability to carry it off, order a dressed crab. If you’re ready for the whole crab challenge, you must first prise away the legs and claws from the body by twisting in a semi-circular motion with the fingers. Discard the legs and put the claws to one side. Pop open the shell by flipping the crab on to its back, using the fingers to remove the ‘tab’ (a kind of back flap) on the body’s underside. Take the top and bottom half in each hand and lift off the top shell. Then apply pressure with your thumbs to break the crab into two halves. Remove the greyish lungs and liver, which should not be eaten. Use a fork to tease out and separate the meat in the crab’s body from the cartilage, and use shellfish crackers to open the claws, enabling you to extract the meat with a pick. Discard the shell debris in the dish provided and rinse the fingers in the finger bowl.
• Mussels
Use an empty mussel shell as a pincer to extract the other mussels from their shells. Using a fork is also perfectly acceptable. The sauce around the mussels can be eaten with a spoon, like soup. Put all empty shells on the spare plate or bowl provided and use the fingerbowl as required.
Finger bowls are often served after eating shelled seafood. The proper use of a finger bowl is to dip only the tips of yourfingers in the bowl, then pat them dry with a napkin. If a cut lemon accompanies the finger bowl, first slide the lemon across your fingertips before dipping them in the warm water.
•Whole Fish
Work down one side of the spine at a time, from head-end to tail-end. Ease mouthful-sized pieces from the fish. Never flip the fish over to reach the flesh on the underside – lift the entire skeleton up and gently ease the flesh out from beneath – this was traditionally done with two forks. Small bones should be removed from the mouth with fingers and placed on the side of the plate.
• Prawns
If the prawn arrives intact, begin by removing the head and tail; do this by giving each end a sharp tug. Peel off the shell, starting from the underside, where the legs meet the body. If the prawn is uncooperative, discreetly bend it against its natural curve to loosen the shell. Finally, remove the black thread from along the back before eating the flesh. To eat a prawn served headless but with its tail attached, use the latter as a handle and discard after eating the flesh. Langoustines may be treated in a similar way. Use the finger bowl as before.
• Oysters
Raw oysters are served on a bed of ice, accompanied by fresh lemon wedges and sometimes mignonette (shallot and red wine vinegar dressing). They will be already shucked (ie detached), but use your fork to prise the flesh from the shell if any sticks. Squeeze the lemon over the oyster in the shell.
Pick up the shell and bring the widest end to the lips. Tilt, and slide the entire contents of the shell – the oyster and all the juices – directly into the mouth from the shell.
Alternatively, hold the oyster in the left hand and spear the contents with a fork (sometimes special oyster forks are provided), then drink the remaining juice from the shell. Either chew and savour the unique briny, metallic taste of the oyster, or swallow it down in one – opinions vary about which method is best.
The tradition of seating newlyweds side-by-side at formal dinner parties during their first year of marriage now seems archaic and outmoded. But it reflects the ‘special’ aura that surrounded couples as they embarked on their life together – normal social expectations were waived, and they were allowed to enjoy their new togetherness.
The early days of marriage are still seen as a special time. Up to a point, newlyweds are expected to dote on each other, find it hard to keep their hands and eyes off each other, and generally behave as if they’re passionately in love with each other. But only up to a point…
However rosy the afterglow of the wedding and honeymoon, normal life must resume at some point. Planning for, and anticipating, the wedding will have taken up a lot of emotional and practical energy, and there is bound to be a feeling of anti-climax. Your big day may well have filled your every waking thought for many months, so it is not surprising that everyday life can feel troublingly empty.
Resist the temptation to fill up the weeks immediately following the wedding with manic socialising. Concentrate instead on being together and spending tranquil hours with each other, which will cement your bond. Once this period is over, newlyweds should begin to gently break down the aura of coupledom that suffuses them by starting to invite people into their lives. This means asking people around to the marital home and offering hospitality.
If you are a relatively recent couple, now is the time to bond with your respective families and to bring them together, so that everyone can get used to relating to you as a married couple – there will be endless wedding photographs to admire, and reminiscences and anecdotes to share.
Be patient and accept that you will be bombarded by questions. Many of them will be of the “how’s married life?” variety, and you must learn to parry these questions with good grace. If the questions become over-intrusive, for example enquiries about when you plan to start a family, you really are not obliged to answer – practice a sphinx-like air of imperturbability and respond with a curiosity-dampening “all in good time”.
The following practical tasks must be undertaken:
• Check that all paperwork and invoices are now settled with suppliers. The wedding dress and morning suit should be cleaned as soon as possible to avoid any deterioration or damage. You will also need to collect any clothes or possessions you left with members of the family or at friends’ houses before the wedding.
• Formal thank you letters must be sent for all wedding presents. This should be done before the weeks slip into months. Split the task between you to prevent thank you letters becoming a chore.
• It’s a pleasing gesture to also send effusive thank you letters to parents, in-laws, the best man, ushers and bridesmaids, acknowledging – gratefully – all their hard work on the day.
• Now is the time to browse through your wedding photographs and decide which images you want to order. You can also distribute the link or album to parents and family members so that they can place their own orders. Check if the best man, ushers or bridesmaids would also like to order any prints.
• If a name change is planned, the practical bureaucracy should be attended to, avoiding a confusing interregnum in which both names are being used. If either party in an opposite or same-sex marriage chooses to take their spouse’s name, a deed poll is not required; the marriage certificate is sufficient documentary evidence to show that they have changed their surname. Remember that a name change will involve a great deal of further bureaucracy, as you will have to update your details with doctors, dentists, banks, the DVLA, Inland Revenue and so on.
Finally, don’t over-prolong the after-wedding glow. The world is full of married people and getting married doesn’t make you unique. The wedding itself was your big day, and sometimes it’s hard to come down to earth after the festivities or to accept that other people have moved on with their lives. You may have become used to being the centre of attention for several months during the lead-up to the marriage and – if the wedding has gone according to plan – you will have basked in all the admiration and good wishes.
But weddings are one-off rituals, not models of how life ought to be. Remember this, and concentrate on embracing, and welcoming, post-nuptial normality. Don’t be depressed if you feel a little anti-climactic, that’s only to be expected. Just remind yourself that you’re embarking on life’s next big adventure.
Pity the child-free guest who is unlucky enough to be seated next to the out-and-out school bore. They can look forward to an evening of relentless monologues on the subject closest to the doting parent’s heart: school admissions policies, waiting lists, league tables, SATs, A Levels vs Baccalaureates, university admissions, and so on…ad infinitum.
There’s no bore like a school bore. As soon as the child is reasonably sentient (and sometimes long before) the obsession kicks in. Agonising examinations of the comparative merits of various schools, endless note-swapping with fellow bores, sudden ‘conversions’ to eccentric religions (well worth it if the child can gain admission to superior faith schools) – the list goes on. And like all bores, the school bore is blissfully unaware of the magnitude of the preoccupation. Despite all signs to the contrary, school bores assume that everyone else shares their fixation on all things educational. They blithely expect that their fellow human beings are equally riveted by academic travails and triumphs and can think of no finer conversational subject than little Charlie’s SATS scores, Rebecca’s private tuition or Jemima’s GCSE grades.
School bores should remember that many people do not have children at all, and others have happily put the whole business of education behind them. Dwelling on the subject at social gatherings is therefore of absolutely no interest or relevance to them and should be avoided because it breaks one of the fundamental rules of social intercourse – find a subject that engages everyone present.
They should also be aware that many parents of school-age children do not share their passion; certainly, they want their kids to do well, but they have a relaxed attitude to schools, and a blithe confidence that their children will make their own way successfully. Rather than pushing their children academically, they have concentrated on nurturing their relationship with their kids, encouraging interests outside the school, and building their sense of self-confidence and self-motivation, secure in the knowledge that these are the traits that will stand their children in good stead as they make the transition to adulthood. Parents like this will find the bore’s endless musings on admissions, exams, results, grades and streams troublingly pushy, single-minded and competitive.
Of course, it must be noted that the school bore evolves from the finest, and most laudable, of motives. Their abiding passion is to obtain the best possible education for their children. This is undoubtedly a praiseworthy aspiration, but somewhere along the line, the parental ambitions are blown out of all sense of proportion.
Re-mortgaging your house to fund the ‘best’ private education for your child or moving house to access a better school certainly shows an extraordinary commitment. But before you take such a drastic step, it might be a good idea to pause and examine your own motivations. Are you seeing your child as an extension of yourself and mapping out their future stellar academic career because you seek an antidote to your own sense of academic mediocrity and under-achievement? Are you looking at the might-have-beens and could-have-done-betters in your own life and redressing your own personal history?
You may well argue that you are seeking to equip your child with essential survival tools in a very challenging world, but if your drive, ambition and angst become excessive, you might simply be passing on your neurosis to your child, instilling a lifetime of performance anxiety, or creating a stubborn refusal to cooperate. Faced with relentless parental ambitions, it is scarcely surprising that many children simply dig their heels in and choose to opt out.
If you sense a nascent preoccupation with all things educational, take a long, hard look at yourself. While it might be hard to purge your obsession, you can make a start by keeping it to yourself. Make a point of not hanging around the playground quizzing other parents about their child’s grades, curriculum gripes or extra-curricular efforts. On the days when GCSE and A level results are announced, stay shtum – resist the temptation of buttonholing other parents and asking about their children’s grades and, no matter how proud and even vindicated you may feel, ensure that you do not boast about your own child’s achievements. Practice answering polite social enquiries about your child’s progress succinctly – “he/she seems to be doing fine, thank you” – rather than launching into a detailed monologue about your educational trials and tribulations.
If you cannot control your obsession, your best policy is to befriend some fellow educational bores. There are plenty of them around, and you can while away many a happy hour animatedly discussing the comparative merits of your children’s schools. Just don’t inflict it on the rest of us…
In crowded cities, where living cheek by jowl with other people creates all kinds of pressure, neighbours can spell trouble… all too often they’re inconsiderately noisy, grab the prime parking space, spill their bin-bags or fight with you over the party wall.
The ‘neighbours from hell’ phenomenon is depressingly familiar, and police are frequently called out to address rowdy altercations and campaigns of victimisation and intimidation; occasionally disputes between next-door neighbours can descend into violence.
But it really doesn’t have to be like this. If you make a concerted effort to be friendly, cooperative and accommodating towards your neighbours, you may find there are many benefits in kind. Approach these relationships in an open and friendly way, and you stand a good chance of escaping the hellish everyday stress of being at daggers drawn with people who live in close proximity.
Follow our golden rules to ensure that your neighbourly relations are cordial and civilised:
• When new neighbours move in, be quick to make friends. Pop round with a friendly smile, a cup of tea, and offers of help and advice (but only if it is solicited – coming across as the neighbourhood know-it-all may sour relationships at the outset).
• Once you have made friends with your neighbours you can enjoy many reciprocal favours. You can give them keys for when you get locked out, ask them to pop in and feed the cat if you’re away, they’ll know how to turn off the burglar alarm that mistakenly goes off when you’ve just left for your three-week holiday, they’ll take delivery of parcels for you.
• Always remember that neighbourliness is a reciprocal phenomenon. The favours you exact from your neighbours must be returned – that’s the deal.
• Encourage your children to make friends with theirs, especially if they’re of a comparable age; you can offload yours onto them for hours at a time, and vice versa. If you’ve got older kids who are keen to make money babysitting, offer this service to neighbours with young children.
• Be aware of the impact that your behaviour has on neighbours. Park sensibly, ensure that bin bags are safely contained within rubbish bins and keep your street frontage neat and tidy.
• Keep shared boundaries – hedges, fences, walls – well maintained. Encroaching growth or tumbledown fences can be a pressure point that starts many a neighbourly dispute.
• Keep an eye on your garden and be aware that prolific growth can have an impact on neighbours. Ensure that trees are kept well pruned and never impinge on next-door gardens or steal their light. If you’ve got a tree that sheds vast quantities of leaves or inedible windfalls on to the neighbour’s garden, offer to go round and bag up and dispose of the debris.
• Most neighbours should tolerate the sound of children playing on a warm summer’s evenings and accept that they are entitled to do so. However, it is always a good idea to keep an eye on children when they’re playing in the garden – if they are fighting a pitched battle – complete with bloodcurdling shrieks and water cannon – you might have to tell them to calm down.
• Try and be sociable with neighbours. Invite them round for the occasional drink or cup of tea, show them your new kitchen or greenhouse, engage with them on hot neighbourhood topics, for example traffic calming schemes and parking regulations. Coming together over a local cause is a good way of cementing bonds.
• Always warn neighbours if you are entertaining and there is likely to be noise and disruption. If you get on well enough with them, it’s a good idea to invite them to big parties and al fresco events.
• If you are having work done on your house, go round and tell the neighbours beforehand. Builder’s lorries, scaffolding and skips will cause real dismay if they suddenly appear without warning. Keep an eye on your builders and make sure they’re not deafening your neighbour with loud music or shouted conversations.
• If there are problems with the usual neighbour trigger points – noise, parking, rubbish disposal – try your best to negotiate the difficulties amicably and resist outright confrontation. Communicate calmly, show sympathy for their difficulties, behave ultra-reasonably. It is always better to say, “I do understand how difficult it is to find a parking space in this street, but I’m afraid you’re blocking my drive”, rather than shouting “what do you think you’re doing parking in front of my drive?”
• Avoid litigation if possible; once down the route of noise abatement orders and so on, you will always be nervous around your neighbours and the animosity might get out of hand. There are many creative and horrifying ways in which neighbours who feel victimised and persecuted by you can make your life hell.
Bullying comes in many forms – from playground torments to insidious workplace abuse. One of the worst manifestations is when a person who holds a position of power and authority abuses their status to bully and demean the people who answer to them.
This is performative, public bullying, desired to cause maximum shame and humiliation. It represents a total abandonment of accepted codes of civilised behaviour, and therefore is manifested in socially disinhibited behaviour – loss of temper, rage, anger, foul language – which we are taught from childhood to suppress. The assumption is that the bully can discard social norms with impunity because he/she is in a position of power, and their behaviour becomes a chest-beating powerplay, designed to assert their ‘superior’ status.
These bullies may delude themselves that their abuse is motivational, that they are calling out the shortcomings in their team members, spurring on their underlings to harder work and better performance. They congratulate themselves on being ‘tough bosses’, who make huge demands and expect their team to rise to them.
But they are blind to the fact that they create an atmosphere of stress and anxiety, where every team member lives in dread of becoming the next target. In the short term, this may drive them on to making superhuman efforts in order to avoid becoming the next casualty, but in the long term this is unsustainable. Inspiring fear and dread is not a good way of motivating people, or building a strong team – people work much more effectively if a sense of collaboration and cooperation is nurtured. Eventually team members will be ground down by their boss’s antics and crushed by the constant pressure – they may well leave, taking their expertise with them, or become whistle-blowers, who call out their boss, leading to his/her eventual downfall.
As with all bullying, it is probable that the intemperate behaviour stems from deep-seated anxiety and feelings of inadequacy, which are not acknowledged but instead are masked by a theatrical display of power. People in this position enjoy being feared and are proud of the hatred they inspire. Adult bullies may well have been bullied as children.
It is generally considered that behaviour is bullying if it is humiliating, offensive, intimidating, hostile or degrading and this damaging conduct needs to be called out and remedied wherever it is manifested. Bosses who are accused of bullying behaviour will inevitably defend themselves by asserting that their robust behaviour gets good results; they will probably deride their victim for being thin-skinned and over-sensitive. But their behaviour, especially if it is in public, will have been witnessed by many other people, and if you are making a complaint, it can be very useful to elicit their opinion.
Sometimes the bullying boss will take his or her abuse into the private sphere – haranguing the victim behind closed doors or sending offensive texts or emails. If this happens make a record of what has happened, including examples of offensive remarks, and retain all written evidence. The main priority is to report the problem to a manager, or to Human Resources, and to give them clear instances – and evidence, if it exists – of the behaviour.
It can often be a fine line between a tough boss and an abusive one, but this line must be drawn.
As the temperature begins to drop and the cold days of winter loom on the horizon, it’s time to consider the subject of outerwear. Britain’s notoriously unpredictable weather has inflicted many challenges for a nation that enjoys outdoor pursuits and open-air entertainment. It is scarcely surprising, therefore, that the British have developed an unrivalled range of warm and weatherproof garments.
Many of these – now fashionable – garments have utilitarian roots, evolving from Britain’s seafaring and military past, aided by the ingenious appliance of science. The invention of truly waterproof coats and footwear has made the great outdoors painlessly accessible even during the worst winter weather…
Britain is an island nation with a long maritime history, and many iconic British garments have their roots on board ship. Waxed cotton was first invented for the clipper fleet when linseed oil (extracted from the flax plants used to make linen) was used to treat cotton sails and seamen’s clothing. The treated cloth was waterproof but became stiff in cold weather.
In the 1930s a new process was invented, when cotton cloth was treated with cupro-ammonia and coated with paraffin wax. The new, more flexible, fabric became indispensable for robust outdoor wear, much favoured by farmers and gamekeepers.
The chemical treatments meant that the fabric was originally only available in black or dark olive. The olive could vary considerably, so it became traditional for olive waxed cotton garments to boast a standardised brown corduroy collar.
Now adopted as the uniform of Britain’s country classes, waxed cotton jackets have moved beyond their beginnings as practical workwear. They are de rigueur at any social gathering in the countryside where protection from the elements is paramount and are worn in preference to woollen overcoats – especially for horse racing, horse trials, point to points, shooting parties and country fairs – and are often accessorised with tweed caps, silk headscarves and wellington boots.
This ubiquitous and practical boot had its origins in British military history. Arthur Wellesley, first Duke of Wellington and the general who led his nation’s troops to victory at the Battle of Waterloo (1815), instructed his shoemaker, George Hoby of St James Street, London, to fashion a boot out of calfskin leather. The boot was an adaptation of the traditional ‘Hessian’ design, cut lower on the leg so they were more comfortable for riding.
Leather wellingtons proved enduringly popular – practical in battle, but appropriately stylish for evening wear.
Their transition to rubber boots followed the invention of the vulcanisation process for rubber by Charles Goodyear (1800–60). American entrepreneurs took the new technology to France, where waterproof rubber boots proved an immediate hit with farmers, and to Edinburgh, where rubber boots were manufactured from 1856 at the behest of an American named Henry Lee Norris. He believed that Scotland was a good place to manufacture wellingtons because of the country’s very high rainfall.
Wellingtons proved invaluable in the trenches of World War I, while in peacetime they kept fishermen’s feet dry and protected farmers from mud. Made of natural rubber with non-slip soles they were the ultimate practical footwear.
When manufacturers began to make them in a range of fashionable colours and patterns, wellington boots underwent another renaissance. They became the must-have footwear for country events, festivals and rainy days – a perfect fashion icon for a nation that enjoys the outdoor life, however unpredictable the weather.
The ubiquitous waxed jacket and wellington combination requires one final touch, the headgear. Women choose woollen or fake fur hats, or follow in the footsteps of the late Queen, and sport a simple square of brightly patterned silk, folded in half to make a triangle and tied in a neat bow under the chin.
Tweed caps are a popular choice for men, since they are both warm and water resistant. Their history can be traced back to a 1571 an Act of Parliament, which decreed that on Sundays and holidays all males aged six and over, who were not members of the nobility, should wear a woven wool cap. Although this Act was later repealed, the ‘flat cap’ had become the mark of the working man. At the other end of the spectrum members of the aristocracy and Royal Family adopted the tweed cap as practical headgear when out shooting, and it has now become a ubiquitous fashion icon.
The tweed cap is an outstanding testament to the beauty and utility of Scotland’s famous fabric, which has its roots in the Outer Hebrides, where islanders hand-wove their own wool to make a cloth that would help them withstand the harsh winters. This rough hand-dyed woollen fabric had a soft, open texture and was usually woven with a plain weave, or a herringbone or twill structure.
Tweed really took off when Queen Victoria and Prince Albert fell in love with Scotland, purchasing Balmoral Castle in 1852. Here they enjoyed hunting, fishing and shooting, and Britain’s aristocracy followed their monarch’s lead. Estate-owners wanted to provide distinctive clothing for their staff, and estate tweeds were invented. A large range of distinctive tweeds were woven to mirror the earthy colours of the Scottish landscape and reflect the estate owner’s pride. These were appropriated by the fashion industry in the 20th century and tweed became an international phenomenon.
The Victorians fetishised mourning, amassing a sombre array of customs and conventions (mourning clothes, elaborate funerals, black-edged stationery and so on) that – in an era of high mortality, especially amongst children – helped them get through frequent bereavements.
Today, we have dispensed with many of these trappings, aiming instead at an open, tolerant approach to the procedures surrounding death, allowing people to devise their own ways of mourning and memorialising their loved ones.
However, there are some customs that are still extremely valuable, and even in an age of texting, email and social media a handwritten letter of condolence is still recognised as an indispensable and time-honoured way of conveying your thoughts and good wishes to a bereaved person. As always, the very act of writing and the trouble you have taken – choosing the stationery, wielding the pen and ink, addressing the envelope, buying a stamp – sends a strong, yet subliminal message, of concern and empathy.
Write promptly after the death is announced and resist the temptation to simply purchase a generic card of the ‘with deepest sympathy’ variety. This is a lazy cop-out, allowing you to rely on the card to convey emotions that you should strive to articulate and communicate yourself.
Recipients
Letters are written to the individual closest to the deceased, who may be a spouse, partner, parent or sibling. Some people may write to the family member of their own generation they know best, or indeed to more than one person.
Style
Use your natural voice; the tone need not be too solemn (see example below). The letter should focus on the deceased, for example personal recollections, or a mention of distinguishing characteristics or great achievements. If you only knew the deceased slightly and are writing to support the bereaved person, more general expressions of sympathy are appropriate.
Don’t feel paralysed by your inability to convey deep emotions or profound insights – condolence letters are formal acknowledgments of what has happened, they are not a substitute for ongoing love and support.
Conventional phrases such as ‘I was so sorry to hear/read about your father...’ are perfectly acceptable. It is traditional to end the letter by saying no reply is necessary.
Replies
A response to letters of sympathy and condolence is not obligatory but many people will choose to reply in due course. If the bereaved person is old or infirm and has received a great many letters then it is quite acceptable to send a printed card, with the sender’s name and address on the top. The card should be signed by hand, and short personal message can be added, if desired.
Traditionally, the wording was in the third person, for example:
Mrs Emma Carmichael would like to thank you very much for your kind letter on the death of her husband.
She has been unable to reply personally to the many hundreds of letters she received but hopes that all those who took the trouble to write will understand and be assured that their letters were much appreciated at this difficult time and will be treasured in the months to come.
It is quite acceptable for the card to be written less formally and in the first person:
I would like to thank you very much for your kind letter on the death of James.
Although I have been unable to reply personally to the many letters I have received, please be assured that your letter was much appreciated at this difficult time and will be treasured in the months to come.
The bereaved person may also want to write personal letters to thank any individuals who have been especially supportive or helpful, have taken part in the funeral service, or perhaps travelled a very long way to come to the funeral.
Sample Condolence Letter
This is an example of a typical condolence letter, with explanatory annotations in italics. It is by no means prescriptive, but may be a helpful start at a difficult time:
Dear Charlotte,
General condolence, followed by a reference to your own relationship with the person
I was so very sorry to hear that your father had died. He was a wonderful man and will be very much missed by all who knew him. I have so many happy memories of our childhood holidays together and his amazing sandcastles and our adventurous if not always very fruitful mackerel fishing expeditions.
About the person
Your father was always so encouraging to young people and I can remember him being so kind and helpful when I was worried about leaving my first job and going off to Australia.
Good wishes and sympathy to the family
Please do give mY love to your mother and tell her how sorry I am. Even though he had been so ill it must be a terrible shock, as I know it was for my mother.
Good wishes from the writer’s family
Tom and the children send their very best wishes to you all. Tom fondly remembers their shared sense of humour, not to mention their love of real ale.
Conventional reassurance to end
Please do not reply.
With much love
Jane
