4 hours ago
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Sunday lunch guests often check in the day before, but this text was different. Rather than making sure of the time, or wondering what to bring, it was a bold, direct question. “Is it cold in your house?”
I stared at my phone screen in awe. This was revolutionary. I’ve been freezing in so many homes, but it had never occurred to me to make temperature inquiries in advance so I could wear a thicker jumper or thermals. Even if I’d had the idea, I probably wouldn’t have followed through for fear of appearing rude, preferring instead to slowly lose the feeling in my toes. But here was proof that, for a host, this kind of query is welcome – after all, most people want their guests to be comfortable and have a nice time, unless they’re a dominatrix.
The message reminded me of a similar incident a few weeks before. I’d offered somebody a cup of tea and they’d smiled and said: “I’d love one, thanks, but I’m really particular about how I take my tea,” and then explained exactly how they wanted it. I was staggered – and haunted by the memory of the many weak, milky cups of torture I’d politely endured in the past. I’m also particular about how I take my tea – who isn’t? – but I’ve never thought to mention it in such detail. Again, if I had, I would have worried I’d be seen as demanding and difficult, rather than someone giving our national drink the respect it deserves.
Life is too short for being unnecessarily cold, or suffering through an accidental insult of a cuppa. In fact, there are so many things that we don’t do, or say, that we definitely should. So, inspired by these maverick heroes, I’m starting now.
For example, how often have you been travelling somewhere and bumped into an acquaintance – a neighbour, a colleague, a parent from school – who happens to be travelling the same route? They’re perfectly fine, probably – no offence to them – but your heart sinks as you realise you’re now obliged to sit next to them and chat all the way there. Except, bombshell: you’re not. If you’re brave enough to say: “Lovely to see you, but I’m so into this podcast/dying to finish this book/need to do a bit of work,” they will not only understand; the chances are they’ll be grateful. You’re perfectly fine, no offence to you, but they probably weren’t thrilled by the idea of making small talk for 50 minutes either.
Finding it hard to say no has been much discussed; less so struggling to say yes. Take, for example, when somebody offers to treat you: a bill you’d assumed would be split arrives and they reach over and say: “This is on me.” I’ve got myself into near physical altercations trying to avoid this kind, lovely gesture being bestowed upon me. “Absolutely not! I wouldn’t dream of it! I simply couldn’t,” is the family-friendly version of the sentiment I usually proffer. It would be much more pleasant to graciously accept, then add: “Next dinner’s on me.”
Equally, if you share food – increasingly common in the era of the small-plates restaurant – when the waiter comes to clear, is there not always a single morsel left on each dish? Saving one for Mr Manners, as it’s known. It’s a waste, which makes no sense, not least financially, because small plates cost, on average, £97. Yet it’s largely the norm. Perhaps you and your fellow diner will take turns urging each other to have the last one, both demurring, or maybe there’s an unspoken agreement to studiously ignore the elephant on the plate. Enough already.
Blunt honesty and directness don’t feel very British – and must, of course, be delivered warmly, with a smile. But I suspect that if you begin employing these tactics, you’ll wonder how you ever got by before and why it took you so long. Or maybe it will lead to the breakdown of civilisation. Oh well, rather that than weak tea.
Polly Hudson is a freelance writer
