Lunching with a friend the other day we got onto the thorny issue of class and, not least, its connection with personal progress. Just how big a barrier is it? Are the English stymied by class from the word go – a very relevant question with an Eton boy now in 10 Downing Street and a Westminster boy as his deputy?
We decided the answer is “no”, as long as you can adapt and adopt the ways of the upper middle classes, the key group of people “running” the UK. As with my earlier post on “adopting group norms” in order to fit in, giving those you want to impress the required (or acquired) certainty that you are of the “right stock” may be to your ultimate advantage.
Both my friend and I decided we were “upper lower-middle class”, which we came to define as people from a lower-middle class background who had managed to fool the upper-middle classes that we belonged in their camp. Yet we then got into listing the give-away signs that reveal you as from the right side of the tracks. That you are truly of the Upper-Middle Classes (rather than - like my friend and I - as arrivistes trying to bluff our way in).
Here were our thoughts:
1) Cars: The U-MCs drive a battered Volvo, or similar such car. Not for them the “flash mowtaa” of the wide boy, oh no. Cars are for ferrying kids and animals and large implements over potentially tough terrain – so something old, muddy and big is a must.
2) Media: Depending on their prejudices they may read various broadsheets but, at home, they all listen to Radio 4. In fact, the U-MCs may have R4 broadcasting away in several rooms simultaneously – some that have been unoccupied for weeks. The only acceptable alternative to R4 is Radio 3, perhaps playing quietly in a recess with a snoozing dog. And while our U-MCs shun the TV soaps (in fact shun anything on ITV), keeping up with the plot of The Archers is de rigueur.
3) Jobs: Mum doesn’t have one. This may seem old fashioned but, while the kids are school age, most mums are stay-at-home (yet still employ cleaners and nannies and the odd au pair). In this respect, qualifications – or past career highlights – are largely irrelevant (although she usually keeps her contact base up to date and the school PTA is staggeringly over-managed).
4) Animals: U-MC families tend to like them. Dogs and cats seem to co-habit in this world (perhaps both realising when they are well off and suspending their usual hostilities). Dogs tend to be Labradors or something else child friendly, and don’t be surprised if the odd horse, pig – or even flock of rare sheep – is loitering around somewhere in the background. Yet the opposite is true of plants – at least the indoor variety. Pot plants, I discovered to my embarrassment, are a distinctly lower-middle class taste.
5) Cooking: U-MC houses all smell of the most divine home cooking, usually prepared by the stay-at-home mum. Certainly, I’ve had to develop a tolerance for garlic (in both the primary and secondary sense). And while both men and women are accomplished foodies, they do occasionally follow a recipe, although the distinctly upper-crust intonation of Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall is preferred to the estuarial fruitiness of Jamie Oliver. Gordon Ramsay, meanwhile, is Scottish, working class and far too foul-tempered to be acceptable.
6) Kitchen: Perhaps oddly, the kitchen is the hub of the U-MC house (something French visitors find curious). In fact family life is often focused on a large kitchen table. And, like a branch of Starbucks, this table is capable of hosting several potentially-conflicting meetings or activities simultaneously.
7) TV: Not in the main living room (which U-MCs call the sitting room – never the “lounge”). While the latest model, TVs are usually small and tucked away in a “snug” – often a wood-panelled room with lots of yellowing books, soft furnishings and a real fire (again, often roaring away to itself).
8) Children: There are usually more than two. Peculiarly, the demographic curve for childbirth is very much U-shaped. So while the lower- and middle-middle classes produce one, two or – increasingly – no children, the U-MCs are breeding for England. It’s their badge of honour, especially if the aim is to privately educate the lot of them. Children to the U-MCs are like sports cars to a lottery winner: to be collected and displayed.
9) Arty kids: U-MC offspring all have a creative bent that many now pursue as a career – though rarely profitably. In fact, the entire concept of money is a weird one to the U-MCs. I’ve written about this before but the U-MCs have a strange attitude to their wealth: despite their obvious cash the acquisition of it is viewed as an evil. Indeed, most U-MC families only really know they’ve made it once the kids start spouting opinions somewhere to the left of Fidel Castro (please refer to Maslow’s hierarchy of needs for an explanation).
10) Talents. U-MCs can all play musical instruments. In fact they can all play sports to a high standard – especially tennis, skiing and rugby and anything to do with horses (golf being a bit M-MC) – speak several languages (and certainly French), understand the basics of carpentry, gardening and animal husbandry and play bridge, chess and something called fives. Skills all acquired while the rest of us were watching Scooby-doo and playing knock-down ginger.
Good luck with the integration!
No comments:
Post a Comment