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T H E M A Y F A I R M A G A Z I N E 001

Kate Harrison enjoys a romantic weekend in Florence at a restored, aesthetic marvel of a hotel where it’s all part of the process to come, see and stay in bed

BEING BRITISH is so much more than a nationality.

It’s a mindset, a feeling, an outlook on life that it utterly

unique. It’s a shared understanding of centuries

of rules, codes and conventions that dictate

our behviours in ways most of us don’t even

realise anymore: dress codes, queues, small

talk, hat-wearing, RSVP’s and Faux Pax,

afternoon tea... the list is endless.

The one trait that is always seen as the most

inextricable to us Brits is our unequivocally high ranking of politeness, which

is taken to almost pathological levels at times. We join a queue no matter what

the circumstances, dating back to a time of rationing in the War; the great

Blitz spirit that saw everyone ‘in it together’ forbid any sort of pushing to the

front. Many decades later and this remains, leading to order wherever there is

a group of people wanting the same thing.

While in this queue, however you will also note the accepted use of

personal space, something again that we have managed to maintain on all but

public transport, where an aversion of eye contact and a pretence that you

are not actually touching is crucial.

Small talk is another politeness that has trickled into everyday life. ‘How

are you?’ should only ever really be answered with ‘Fine thank you, and you?’.

To answer ‘Great – life’s wonderful’ is arrogant, but to launch into a diatribe

about your various ailments or financial troubles would be viewed in the same

way as taking off your trousers and waving them in the air. The weather is a

classically safe option and you can never underestimate the Englishman’s

ability to be surprised by the month of the year (despite the continuity of this

annual pattern) or the weather within it (again, which will often be absolutely

as expected). As Samuel Johnson noted, ‘ It is commonly observed, that

when two Englishmen meet, their first talk is of the weather’. Quite.

This compulsive politeness will also lead the British to apologise for

almost anything, regardless of circumstance or fault. If someone spills his

drink on you, you must immediately apologise for being in the way. He

naturally will also apologise and you will both go away marginally vexed but

happy that you escaped this awkward exchange without a ‘scene’ (oh how

the true Brit hates an attention-drawing ‘scene’!). If something is worthy of a

scene, you must simply hold you head high, don the Stiff Upper

Lip, and remove yourself from the situation.

Ah the Stiff Upper Lip, where would the Empire be

without it? This facial quirk is crucial for weathing any storm

that may appear, and is often combined with dark gallows

humour (also a British essential). Adversity, we are

taught, from Grandfather’s, war films and anyone

senior to us, should be met with stoicism and poise.

Our politeness has led to conventions that would

never survive overseas: we don’t discuss money, we

wear hats at weddings and Ascot, we hate to complain

officially, yet we love to moan (a British person knows this is a contradiction

in terms yet manages to walk the line between the two with ease), and all

achievements – be they personal, academic, sporting or professional must be

shrugged off with a vague witticism exclaiming that you had virtually nothing

to do with it the success.

British humour, like our bulky three-pronged plugs, does not travel well.

Satire, self-deprecation (but never self pity), and April Fool’s Day are all things

unthinkable outside this fair isle. An American would never jokingly refer to

themselves as an ‘Alcoholic’ and an Asian businessman would never wake

up on a specific Spring morning and know that they can go around pulling

ridiculous pranks that are totally acceptable, but only until 12pm on the dot.

This would be madness.

But among our own indigenous madness there is great method,

or at least there once was. Happily, another charming British trait is our

determination to hold on to tradition, however outdated or borderline absurd, so

it seems that the vast array of conventions and contradictions that comprise the

average Brit will never truly die out. And thank goodness for that.

OF BEING BRITISHThe Art

T H E M A Y F A I R M A G A Z I N E 002

FEATURE

What does it mean to be British? ELLE BLAKEMAN investigates the contradictory codes and conventions that make up our collective identity

BEING BRITISH is so much more than a nationality. It’s a mindset, a

feeling, an outlook on life that it utterly unique. It’s a shared understanding of

centuries of rules, codes and conventions that dictate our behviours in ways

most of us don’t even realise anymore: dress codes, queues, small talk,

hat-wearing, RSVP’s and Faux Pax, afternoon tea... the list is endless.

The one trait that is always seen as the most inextricable to us

Brits is our unequivocally high ranking of politeness, which is taken to

almost pathological levels at times. We join a queue no matter what the

circumstances, dating back to a time of rationing in the War; the great Blitz

spirit that saw everyone ‘in it together’ forbid any sort of pushing to the front.

Many decades later and this remains, leading to order wherever there is a

group of people wanting the same thing.

While in this queue, however you will also note the accepted use of

personal space, something again that we have managed to maintain on all

but public transport, where an aversion of eye contact and a

pretence that you are not actually touching is crucial.

Small talk is another politeness that has trickled into

everyday life. ‘How are you?’ should only ever really

be answered with ‘Fine thank you, and you?’. To

answer ‘Great’ is arrogant, but to launch into a

diatribe about your various ailments or financial

troubles would be viewed in the same way as

taking off your trousers and waving them in the air.

The weather is a classically safe option and you can never

underestimate the Englishman’s ability to be surprised by the month of the year

(despite the continuity of this annual pattern) or the weather within it (again, which

will often be absolutely as expected). As Samuel Johnson noted, ‘It is commonly

observed, that when two Englishmen meet, their first talk is of the weather’. Quite.

This compulsive politeness will also lead the British to apologise for

almost anything, regardless of circumstance or fault. If someone spills his

drink on you, you must immediately apologise for being in the way. He

naturally will also apologise and you will both go away marginally vexed but

happy that you escaped this awkward exchange without a ‘scene’ (oh how

the true Brit hates an attention-drawing ‘scene’!). If something is worthy of

a scene, you must simply hold you head high, don the Stiff Upper Lip, and

remove yourself from the situation.

Ah the Stiff Upper Lip, where would the Empire be without it? This

facial quirk is crucial for weathering any storm that may appear, and is often

combined with dark gallows humour (also a British essential). Adversity, we

are taught, from Grandfather’s, war films and anyone senior to us, should be

met with stoicism and poise.

Our politeness has led to conventions that would never survive

overseas: we don’t discuss money, we wear hats at weddings and Ascot, we

hate to complain officially, yet we love to moan (a British person knows this

is a contradiction in terms yet manages to walk the line between the two

with ease), and all achievements – be they personal, academic, sporting or

professional must be shrugged off with a vague witticism exclaiming that you

had virtually nothing to do with the success.

It seems that British humour, like our bulky three-pronged plugs,

does not travel well. Satire, self-deprecation (but never self pity), and

April Fool’s Day are all things unthinkable outside this fair isle. An

American would never jokingly refer to themselves as an ‘Alcoholic’

and an Asian businessman would never wake up on a specific

Spring morning and know that they can go around pulling

ridiculous pranks that are totally acceptable, but only until

12pm on the dot. This would be madness.

But among our own indigenous madness there is great

method, or at least there once was. Happily, another charming

British trait is our determination to hold on to tradition, however

outdated or borderline absurd, so it seems that the vast array of conventions

and contradictions that comprise the average Brit will never truly die out. And

thank goodness for that.

OF BEING BRITISHThe Art