Ladies and Gentlemen (Part One)

"The words 'lady' and 'gentlemen' are a bit 'cringe'," said my husband Benedict Ambrose, who loves to make his birthplace sound like a slum out of Dickensian London, only colder and wetter and more violent. His school was founded by a man who was so horrified that guttersnipes might be allowed to go to his own beloved school that he stumped up the money to open Guttersnipe Academy. (I think that's the story.) B.A.'s accent, once unintelligible to anyone two miles from his home, was changed forever by a Harrow Old Boy choirmaster who literally went to prison afterwards, although not for that. 

"'Lady' and 'gentleman' are not cringe in North America," I said in the same tone I use for explaining why space travel is not a waste of money. "They aren't a Class Indicator. They merely mean people who have good manners. If you had a daughter, would you not tell her to 'Sit like a lady'?"

"It's a bit 'cringe'," B.A. insisted and later added, "It's complicated."

Before I start writing about Please and Thank you and small-talk and always-bring-a-bottle, I should address our geographical and historical context. We live on the East Coast of Scotland, it is 2023, and although the class system was elasticized under Margaret Thatcher, not that she ever gets any thanks for that, it still haunts us all.  

As a matter of fact, Maggie was a Grocer's Daughter, as nobody ever stops mentioning, which more-or-less puts her in the most hated social class in the United Kingdom, which is Aspirational Lower Middle. The most hated woman is not, in fact, Baroness Thatcher, but the fictional Hyacinth Bucket (pronounced Bucket by her fictional husband, but bouquet by her fictional self) of a 1990s TV show called Keeping Up Appearances.  

What makes Hyacinth so incredibly loathsome to the right-thinking Briton is that she was a snob and a social climber who pretended to belong to the upper-middle-class when she didn't, faking her accent and doing other unforgivably pretentious things like--. 

Well, I'm not sure, for  I've never watched Keeping Up Appearances. But perhaps one of her disgusting crimes was wearing vintage hats anywhere not a wedding. After being harassed for my horrific vintage hat wearing behaviour,  I finally gave it up. (The traditional working classes and the very poor seem to have been united in their hatred for my vintage hats. They were triggered by my hats.) And when I, as a bride, suggested that I could adjust to life in Scotland by modifying my flat Toronto accent (example!) to something more like his, B.A. almost died of horror.

Henry Higgins in reverse, Benedict Ambrose taught his Eliza Doolittle that any kind of accent modification or fakery of origins was complete social death and, by the way, her Canadian tones saved her from any class associations whatsoever. She was totally exempt, darling, and we don't talk about class, we talk about values. 

One of our values is good manners although B.A.'s are better than mine because I am a writer. When he was feeling less cringe about the word, B.A. told me that a gentleman is someone who never unintentionally gives offence. Writers unintentionally give offence all the time. (Of course, I have also received a message from a man who thought the romantic hero in one of my stories was him, and he was greatly flattered. He was also greatly wrong. If he reads this, he will probably be offended. You see?)

But to return to the theme of my earlier post, the foundation of all good manners is the understanding that other people are real. If you stabbed them, they would bleed, just as you would if they stabbed you. Incidentally, one reason for the elaborate rules around eating in public is the presence of all the knives on the table. 

Now, after this extremely long intro, here is Part One to a small guide to good manners in Scotland in 2023. 

The Basics

Wash regularly and wear clean clothing.

Use "please" and/or the conditional mood when asking someone to give you something or to do something or if you are asking them if they would like something. 

"Would you like coffee or tea?" and not "Wanna coffee?"

"I'd like some coffee, please." and not "Gimme a coffee."

or

"Would you like coffee?"

"I'd love some coffee!"

Thank you is used as often as possible, sprinkled about like salt on an icy pavement. Everyone likes thanks--although not too much. Once per occasion. It makes the other person feel that their efforts on your behalf have been appreciated. 

"Here is your coffee."

"Thank you."

"Thank you for coming to my concert."

"Thank you for telling me about it!"

"It was lovely to see you."

 "Good-bye!"

Thank you notes of an electronic nature follow parties (and therefore in this case you thank twice: once on the way out, and once the next day). In Edinburgh, people often send thank you cards instead. Paper thank you notes should also be sent after receiving gifts and after overnight stays. But if you are really horrible at getting things in the post, be sure to remember to send thanks over email or social media. Sending a card through the post definitely makes the giver/host feel appreciated, though. 

Always bring a bottle to a house party.  This may surprise you as a basic, but this is Scotland, and if an adult invites another adult to a party at their house, and it's not a "dry [teetotaler] hoose," that other adult must bring a bottle of something to drink. Table wine is fine. Dessert wine is generous. A bottle of gin or some other pricey spirit is impressive. 

Apologies should be simple, short, and not repeated. When you break something or step on someone, you simply say "I'm sorry" or "I'm very sorry." The offended person should say "It doesn't matter." If you can't help yourself and say "Sorry" a second time, the offended person might say, "Please don't mention it." Obey them.  

Introductions

This is one of the thorniest and most complicated topics in British guides to good manners in part because there used to be very strict rules about not introducing certain kinds of people to other people. In 1897 (see Mrs Humphry), if a university student were enjoying a private flirtation with a shopgirl, he was absolutely forbidden from introducing her to his mother should the latter come upon them chatting in the street. To a certain extent, this principle might still apply today, but for better reasons. Many of us have amusing friends or well-loved relations whose morals we privately deplore. As much as we like them, we would not introduce them to an impressionable teenager or a dazzlingly lovely 20-something in a white mantilla. 

Nowadays, of course, a bigger issue is that people forget to introduce themselves or others at all, leaving other people feeling neglected or at sea. If you bring a friend with you somewhere, often it is up to you to introduce them to other people. And traditionally in Britain this is complicated again because there is a certain order in which you are supposed to do this. However, don't let the tricky details put you off making introductions. Once again, it is about understanding that other people are real. Just like you, other people hate standing there feeling like a lemon while a friend has a chat with his or her other friend without bothering to introduce you. 

Here is a very quick guide to the order of introductions, which I invite you to read twice and then forget:

A man is introduced TO a woman first: "Mary Beth, this is Peter. Peter, Mary Beth."

EXCEPTION: Catholic priests, bishops, VIPs/guests of honour (like the King, the Prince of Wales, Dukes in general), the CEO of the company the woman works for: "Father O'Brien, may I introduce Claire? Claire, this is Father O'Brien." "Bob,  this is Jane from Accounting." 

A younger person of the same sex is introduced TO an older person of the same sex first: "Dad, this is Scooter. Scooter, my dad." "Karen, this is Emily." 

At social events, you must always introduce friends to other friends, especially to female friends, as traditionally a strange man can't talk to a woman without first being introduced. In traditional circles, young women are also often constrained by worries about looking "too forward." They might want to welcome a stranger but not be sure they should.  

On the street, it's a different story. You can stop to say hello to someone and then keep on going without introducing your companion. If you stop for a protracted conversation, however, you should make an introduction. But if either your companion or the person on the street is someone who, for moral reasons, you wouldn't introduce to your mother and/or sisters, don't stop. 

Incidentally, in the UK, an appropriate way to respond to an introduction to someone older than you goes like this:

"Dad, this is Scooter. Scooter, my dad."

"Pleased to meet you, Mr. Stewart."

"Pleased to met you, Scooter. Please call me David."

You can get around the difficulty with surnames by telling your friends right up front how the older person prefers to be called. 

"Mum, this is Joanne. Joanne, this is my mother Susan."  

House & Dinner Parties

Always bring a bottle to a house party even when the host says not to bring anything. When you're invited to a party, it is polite to ask if you can bring anything. This helps you figure out what kind of party it is. It might be the kind of party where everyone brings a dish. If the host or hostess tells you not to bring anything, they do not literally mean not to bring anything at all. You still have to bring a bottle of wine. Six guests bringing a £6 bottle of wine saves the hosts £36 on their lengthy grocery bill and makes them feel that their invitation to dinner was much appreciated. 

Always answer RSVPs in a timely fashion. At last I come to the deeply unfashionable RSVP. 

RSVP is an anagram of Respondez s'il vous plait, which is French for "Answer, please." If you get an invitation with RSVP written on it, you have probably been invited to something that takes an unusual amount of planning and perhaps expense. The lovely person who writes the RSVP wants to give you something--dinner, entertainment, an afternoon away from your child--and it is only fair that you tell him or her if you mean to accept it.  

The most obvious example is the wedding. The contemporary wedding takes months to plan and whoever is paying for the wedding often has to pay per guest. The quicker you say yes or no, the more grateful (and less frantic) the bride/groom/parents will be. (If you're terrible with stamps, call them up or send them an email before sending the enclosed card.) The same goes for anyone who, for whatever reason, needs a headcount long before the party begins. 

The RSVP separates the life of the child from the life of the adult. From the moment you're born until the day you leave university, adults arrange nice things for you without asking for anything back except "Thank you." Sometimes you don't even say thank you, or at least you don't say thank you to the real person who lavished you with goodies. 

For example, as a university student I drank endless tea and scarfed dozens of chocolate biscuits at the Newman Centre without pondering who it was who was paying for the feast. No idea. Neither do I recall if I ever was asked to RSVP before coming, but I doubt it. I must have thanked the student host before leaving, but it never occurred to me to write a thank you note to the Newman Centre parish council, for example.  

Incidentally, my sense of entitlement was immense. I'm atoning for it now with all that dishwashing after Mass.

Upon leaving university, the shocked new adult discovers that he is nearer 25 (if not 30) than 18, and that other adults very, very rarely spread out delicious teas, wine-and-cheese parties, and other lavish entertainments before him. When asked to a very fancy event, he usually discovers that he is meant not only to RSVP but to pay £100 a ticket (£190 if he is married). The fancy event will be in aid of some good cause or other, and so he will also be expected to empty his wallet, bid on items he prays he will not win, and volunteer to help run the next fancy event. And thus chastened, the new adult is delighted when asked to a formal party he doesn't have to pay to attend, and he answers the summons of the RSVP within 24 hours. 

 

In conclusion, if you get an invitation with RSVP written on it, or get any invitation to a party that has a discernible host or hostess, you must decide ASAP if you can/want to go, and let the host or hostess know. They may be sorry to get a "No," but they won't fall into a decline. If given enough time, they might be able to find someone who will jump for joy to get the invitation.   

When you host a party, you have to make sure your guests are all happy. The first thing to do is answer the door personally when they knock, and not leave it to someone they don't know, leaving them under the horrible misapprehension that they have come to the wrong house. Then take their coats and bags and bottles of wine. The coats and bags go in your immaculate bedroom or whichever spare room you happen to have handy, and the bottles go in the kitchen. 

But before you take the wine into the kitchen, you must say, "What can I get you? Wine? Beer? Gin-and-tonic?" If a guest says "Just water, please," which apparently happens in other places, don't push booze upon him but get him a nice glass of water. After taking his drink order, lead your guest into the sitting-room and introduce him to the women and introduce the men to him. (If he's a she, reverse that.) If he's the first one there or he knows everyone, just invite him to have a seat and some snacks.

(Brief aside about food, drink and guests: In countries where Civilization (Western or Otherwise) has not declined quite as much, nobody invites anyone into their home without offering them something to eat and drink when they step inside. Foreign students who come to Edinburgh have been shocked to find, after being invited into a British home, nothing placed before them. To stop Civilizational Decline, we must never keep our helpless guests hungry or thirty.)

According to Mrs Maclean (1962, no relation), at dinner parties ladies women precede men into the dining-room. This assumes there is a dining-room. If there is no dining-room, forget this point. Mrs Maclean also acknowledges that some British dinners still end with the hostess standing up, saying "Shall we?" pointedly at the other women, and then scuttling out the door, followed by her fellow females, to talk rationally in the sitting-room while the men stay behind to drink port and discuss liturgical lace. This is called withdrawing, and their refuge was once called the withdrawing room.  

However, the only hostess I ever met who carried on this strange and ancient custom was me, and I gave it up once I realized that the men were perfectly happy to continue talking at the table, women-free, until they passed out among the walnut shells. In better regulated households, the men would rejoin the women in the drawing room/sitting room after half an hour or so. 

In the UK, making light and amusing conversation ("small talk") is a highly prized skill. An easy way to make small talk is to ask questions. This is an excellent trick for shy people. The best thing to do when introduced to someone at a party and left with him or her by your host or hostess is to ask an open-ended question, one that cannot be answered with yes or no. An obvious one: how he or she met the host and/or hostess. If you are a traditionalist Catholic from elsewhere being introduced into another  traditionalist Catholic circle, you could ask if the local ordinary is a kind man. Be reasonably sure the bishop is not in the room, of course. Incidentally, if you and your best pals have been discussing the liturgy since the soup and pudding is now on the table but no woman has said anything in all that time, something has gone seriously wrong.     

You can ask to help but, really, stay out of the kitchen. In Scotland, nobody ever expects a dinner guest to carry his dishes to the kitchen, let alone to wash them. Out of habit, American and Canadian ex-pat females ask hostesses if they can help in the kitchen, and the answer is invariably no. In a private house, stay out of the kitchen unless the party is in the kitchen.

You leave when everyone else is leaving, unless you are an intimate of the host or hostess. That caveat is Mrs Maclean's rule, not mine. I realize that people younger than myself have much larger parties, and groups come in and groups go out. Their nights are still young at 12 AM, whereas mine are old ladies who want to go to bed. One way to indicate that a party is over is to say, "Would anyone like me to look up the bus schedule?" or "Would anyone like me to call him a taxi?" A very traditional way to indicate that the party is just about over is to offer and serve coffee. However, for me coffee is just another dinner course. These days I often say, "Well, good night, chaps, I'm off to bed." That's a very clear signal the party is over, as is "Drink up! Ha' ye not got hames tae gang tae?" uttered in as broad an accent as possible. 

Always bid good-bye to your host or hostess before you leave any party. When you cross a host's threshold, be that their home or the hotel ballroom they have rented, you have symbolically fallen under their protection. If you suddenly disappear, they may worry about you. (This is particularly true if you are teenage, female, or drunk.) You may also overset his/her reasonable plans for you, such as introducing you to the beautiful young person who embodies your most romantic hopes but is not arriving until 10. At weddings, say good-bye to the bride and groom (if they're still there) and their parents (ditto). 

Send a thank you note by social media or email the next day but as I mentioned above, a thank you note, sent first class (£1.25), is particularly thoughtful and, if your hostess is like me, she not only thinks particularly well of you, she inwardly honours your parents. You may have been secretly raised by wolves, but when you give up your seat on the bus, or send a thank you note, or volunteer to do some noisome chore for the community, traditional old people gossip to each other that you were clearly well brought up. 

Next post: How to ask a girl to dance and how the girl accepts (or not) with grace.