Monday 5 August 2013

I really am very sorry.

By virtue of some unlikely circumstance, I recently spent a curiously prolonged period of time with someone who, among many other things, can be most accurately described as 'American'. As an Englishman, this inevitably led to an avalanche of culture clashes, casual imperialism, and pointing out that, at least from an administrative level, the US is still technically a British colony, and it might be an idea for them to remember that once in a while.

But more than anything else it led to apologising. Constantly.

At this point you're probably thinking: 'Good! Bloody Americans, it's about time they started acknowledging a few things.' You would of course be completely wrong.

You see, as any good English person will tell you, it's entirely reasonable to compose a sentence that's comprised of 70% apologetic terms. 80% if you're being polite. Which you should be. Always. For an American this is frankly incomprehensible. After all, how on earth can I spend that much of my life being that upset about things that in their (savage?) mind I shouldn't even have acknowledged?

I have apologised for being in a slightly inconvenient position (for them), doing something entirely legitimate, but thus putting them through the trauma of having to work around me.

For not predicting their precise need to intake fluids, thus forcing them to actually have to ask for them in the first place.

For having the audacity to attempt to engage them in casual conversation.

For trying to be helpful (I apologised for this a lot).

And for them bumping into me. As frankly I probably shouldn't have been there in the first place.

This was met with a constant procession of confused expressions, and an awful lot of "wait, did you just apologise for that?" Which made me feel awkward. So naturally I apologised for that too.

The only thing I'm worried about is that I might have left something out. Or not apologised enough. Two thoughts that frankly keep me awake at night wondering how best to apologise for that.

One thing I'm not apologising for though is my manners. Which are clearly impeccable. I'm sorry, but I'm just not prepared to call that into question.



Thursday 1 August 2013

The best things about the British summer

As a few people have seen fit to point out, it's summer in the UK at the moment, and for a change we mean that literally, and aren't just optimistically attaching a badge to the 3 months between Spring and First Winter.

So, in commemoration of this once in a lifetime event (there are now an entire generation of children who never had a proper summer when they were at school. Seriously nature, what's up with that?), here's the best things about exactly that.

1. A whole new kind of complaining

We British are a curious type, a nation that comes together over the common understanding that literally none of our infrastructure was designed to work in the environment it's in. For years we've sat there, quietly tutting away at train companies who get caught out by snow in Winter, leaves falling in Autumn, and the concept of rain falling anywhere in the country. But now, now we have something new. It's now too hot for them to run the trains!

We're still complaining, it's still because of the weather, but it's from a DIFFERENT KIND OF WEATHER! Do you have any idea how exciting this is? Do you? I doubt it. I doubt it very much.

2. British summer fashion

We have none. We never have done, and likely never will do. Which is quite predictable really given that we've next to no use for it in the first place (excuses for other seasons will be provided in due course). So simply setting foot outside in this weather is hilarious. Don't believe me? Have you seen Hipsters trying to work out how to ironically wear a sweater and skinny jeans in 90 degree heat?

3. Queuing for 30 minutes to spend £5 on an Ice Cream

It's just like normal queuing; which is amazing, obviously. It's also just like paying massively over inflated prices for everything, as usual (we only do that to see the look on the faces of tourists, just in case you were wondering. And yes, that includes northerners in London). BUT it's in the SUN. Everything's better in the sun.

4. British Beer was designed for exactly these circumstances

You know the moment, the moment where you've been sat in the park with your friends, having a picnic, maybe a couple of drinks, and you reach over to grab another Beer. Grab that can, hear that reassuring hiss as you pull on the ring pull, that moment of expectation as you put the can to your mouth for that first glorious, cold, refreshing taste. Only to discover that rather than the amber of the Gods, what you're now drinking is horrifically warm, and likely the product of building a brewery next to an animal refuge with particularly lax security.

Not with British Beer. We thought ahead. It's meant to be warm. It's literally impossible for it to be ruined by the heat. Amazing.

5. Doing anything is an extreme sport

There is one simple over riding fact of living in Britain. At literally any given moment it could absolutely pour down with rain. We know this, and 9 out of 12 months a year we're completely prepared for it. But in summer? No chance. If you've not attended a BBQ in Britain and had to spend 20 minutes sprinting around the garden trying to get the food covered, find the Dog, and get the garden furniture back in the shed before everything is ruined you've not lived.

6. Confusing Australians

There's nothing quite as magical as seeing the look on an Australian's face when you talk to them about a heatwave in the UK. The only other way to get a similar reaction is to start a conversation speaking Klingon, and finish it by urinating on their shoes.

7. Ordering flavoured Cider without having your sexuality being silently assessed by the bar staff

The fact of the matter is, unless you're ordering a Strongbow (and seriously, why the hell would you?), there's no way for a man to order a Cider without immediately putting his sexual orientation up for debate in the process. In summer however it's simply accepted that you've just order a pint of cold, that comes complete with blocks of extreme cold to make it colder. Essentially announcing yourself as the Ranulph Feinnes of the beverage world. Manly.