More fun with Anglicans
My neighbors at the Lodge, who are renting the cottage to me, are lovely people. As a matter of fact, they're so nice it's eerie sometimes.
They're also committed Anglicans (see my last post) and oozing the kind of understated privilege that characterizes a certain segment of the British upper class, down to their sensible shoes.
They had me over for supper last night, along with a friend of theirs up here for a holiday who's a vicar's daughter from York, and two Anglican nuns who are running a covert Anglican worship operation in the village. So Anglicans everywhere.
The meal itself was a course of sherry, olives and cashew nuts in the drawing room; salmon, lima beans, broccoli and roast potatoes; an alcohol-soaked trifle and fruit salad; crackers and cheese; and coffee and chocolates (back in the drawing room). The conversation was somewhat bizarre, laced with jokes apparently only Anglicans understand (so I didn't). The laughter was subdued and polite.
Yes, ladies and gentlemen, this is the stuff old-fashioned British comedy is made of. Taking a second piece of chocolate with my coffee seemed downright decadent.
But what really fascinated me about this event was the obvious durability of class. If you know me, you know I'm not a committed Marxist. But one almost has to become one when faced with something like this. The wife grew up in the lodge, went to school in the district, and they've lived here as adults for the better part of two decades. The husband is a GP and constantly on call and in touch with people. Their sons are married to local women. And yet they maintain a world that is entirely different from the rest of the village. I've been over to many people's houses for tea/supper and it's totally different there. No sherry, that's for sure. Obviously these people are more educated than the average person here, but they're different even from other educated people in the district (who tend to be vocal Gaelic activists). Even their accents are not local (I can't figure out what they are). It's just utterly amazing.
Now I just need to find a clever statistical measure of class for a place that's supposedly classless (according to local lore).
They're also committed Anglicans (see my last post) and oozing the kind of understated privilege that characterizes a certain segment of the British upper class, down to their sensible shoes.
They had me over for supper last night, along with a friend of theirs up here for a holiday who's a vicar's daughter from York, and two Anglican nuns who are running a covert Anglican worship operation in the village. So Anglicans everywhere.
The meal itself was a course of sherry, olives and cashew nuts in the drawing room; salmon, lima beans, broccoli and roast potatoes; an alcohol-soaked trifle and fruit salad; crackers and cheese; and coffee and chocolates (back in the drawing room). The conversation was somewhat bizarre, laced with jokes apparently only Anglicans understand (so I didn't). The laughter was subdued and polite.
Yes, ladies and gentlemen, this is the stuff old-fashioned British comedy is made of. Taking a second piece of chocolate with my coffee seemed downright decadent.
But what really fascinated me about this event was the obvious durability of class. If you know me, you know I'm not a committed Marxist. But one almost has to become one when faced with something like this. The wife grew up in the lodge, went to school in the district, and they've lived here as adults for the better part of two decades. The husband is a GP and constantly on call and in touch with people. Their sons are married to local women. And yet they maintain a world that is entirely different from the rest of the village. I've been over to many people's houses for tea/supper and it's totally different there. No sherry, that's for sure. Obviously these people are more educated than the average person here, but they're different even from other educated people in the district (who tend to be vocal Gaelic activists). Even their accents are not local (I can't figure out what they are). It's just utterly amazing.
Now I just need to find a clever statistical measure of class for a place that's supposedly classless (according to local lore).
posted by Ness @ 2:59 PM
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