At home with the Hunter-Smithers

1. Etiquette
Society, for its own protection, has built up a definite code of manners and customs which must be observed by any one desirous of being welcomed by well-bred people. Etiquette is the key that opens for us the portals of a broader life in which we can find greater social happiness.

The Book of Etiquette, Volume I, Lady Tourbridge, London, 1897.

2. the good resolutions
I’ll do my best to behave not only well, but exceedingly well. I won’t swear like a trooper. I won’t drool. I won’t eat with my mouth full or roll bread into little balls. I will say ‘shall’ and ‘shan’t’ and ‘delightful’ and exquisite’ and ‘regrettable’, not ‘cool’ and ‘shite’. I will pronounce all my consonants and produce crystal-clear diphthongs. I will remember to use the right cutlery. I will not slurp my soup, pick my teeth with my knife, burp at the dinner table. I will cross my legs at the ankles and make polite conversation about the three (safe, tried and tested) topics of Holidays past and future, Current Affairs as shown on the first page of The Times, Sports as shown on the last page of The Times. I won’t mention my dodgy past, my dissolute present lifestyle, or my unladylike aspirations. I will cover up my tattoos and smile a lot.
And a thousand other things.
Say it with me: fuck, double fuck, triple fuck! I must pack sedatives.

3. the setting
The epitome of all Edwardian country houses, complete with stables, high ceilings, two grand pianos, and a view over the Yorkshire dales.

4. The reason why
I can’t even start to go into that. Shame. Suffice to say I could not turn the invitation down.

5. supper time
When Elizabeth was four, I believe, we took the train to go and visit grandpapa, she says.
I smile politely, concentrating on not slurping my consommé.
In our carriage there was a young man in some kind of punk attire, with one of those hairdos, what are they called, an American name.’
Mohicans? I hazard, wondering if her question is purposely directed at me for any reason.
Yes, that’s right. Well, Elizabeth went straight to him and said ‘You know where you belong? In a zoo! In a cage!
Much (refined, pearly) laughter ensues. Elizabeth is beaming, mock-embarrassed.
I wonder if the point of the anecdote is for us to disapprove of Elizabeth’s self-righteous, childish indignation, or to celebrate the fact that she already had a mind of her own, the dear child.

Still, the food is amazingly good.
Exquisite.
But I can’t fucking ask for seconds, can I.

6. Although fine characters may to a certain extent be an inherited possession, it can be improved and developed by the right environment, and by some study of, and regard for, the social laws and conventions.

I wonder if I’m improved and developed.