The Lady Guide to Modern Manners: 3 May
Dear Thomas,
Summer’s here again and so is social awkwardness over the garden fence. My neighbours on one side are distinctly frosty, should we both happen to be in our gardens at the same time. But on the other side, they’re just a little too chatty. What do you suggest?
Leila Vernon, Worcester
Dear Leila,
At least they’re not having a rave or watching a football match at full blast on a screen they’ve dragged out from the house. Quite a few people in built-up areas mistake their garden for another room. At the first sign of warm weather, they burst out, overexcited and out of control, causing havoc to everybody else.
But back gardens, although technically private, in reality occupy a curious in-between status, at least partly communal and certainly full of social possibilities. Trees over 3.5 metres in height might well be protected. One of the biggest complaints about neighbours, surveys reveal, is that their gardens are untidy or neglected.
All through the winter, you might never see the neighbours. Then suddenly, with balmy days, there’s an opportunity to reach out. I hesitate to speak of social obligations but undoubtedly, unless you’re actually conducting a feud, it does seem unfriendly not to speak should you coincide in your gardens. A few pleasantries (‘Your tulips are stunning this year’) make a larger contribution to the social cohesion of the neighbourhood. But some people are shy or confused as to what to do. You might have to take the initiative and bowl over to the fence.
Conversations of this nature should occur at the boundary. If the neighbour is super-polite they’ll get up from their lounger. Not least is the advantage that you can withdraw from the frontier to mark the end of the conversation, which might solve your problem with your other neighbour who is a little overenthusiastic. A cheerful ‘Oh well, I must pinch out the sweet peas,’ might accompany your withdrawal. Maybe the problem is they don’t know how to end the conversation – they’ll be glad of the hint. On the other hand, they might continue to boom at you from halfway across your garden, in which case, reapproach and say, ‘I’d love to carry on chatting, but I must spread chicken manure. It’s awfully smelly. I’m sure you’d rather keep away. Maybe I’ll see you tomorrow.’
An important exception or clarification to all of the above is as follows: only hail neighbours in their back gardens if you can see them. If they’re secluded on some kind of patio that they’ve clearly rigged up with a high fence all around for privacy, and you can hear, but not see, them, then do not disturb.
Please send your questions to Thomas.blaikie@lady.co.uk or write to him at The Lady, 39-40 Bedford Street, London WC2E 9ER
Now we are doing it here. At the recent funeral of Baroness Thatcher, those so minded in the crowd (the majority of people, apparently) applauded as the coffi n passed. Others shouted in protest.
Whether in our new ‘open’ society, the dead are to be barracked at their own obsequies on a regular basis is another matter. But I love applause at a funeral, both within and without the church.
There’s something terribly touching and absurd about it, poignantly recalling delirious evenings in the theatre or opera house as if a person’s life were some extravagant and glorious production from which they are now bowing out.
Summer’s here again and so is social awkwardness over the garden fence. My neighbours on one side are distinctly frosty, should we both happen to be in our gardens at the same time. But on the other side, they’re just a little too chatty. What do you suggest?
Leila Vernon, Worcester
Dear Leila,
At least they’re not having a rave or watching a football match at full blast on a screen they’ve dragged out from the house. Quite a few people in built-up areas mistake their garden for another room. At the first sign of warm weather, they burst out, overexcited and out of control, causing havoc to everybody else.
But back gardens, although technically private, in reality occupy a curious in-between status, at least partly communal and certainly full of social possibilities. Trees over 3.5 metres in height might well be protected. One of the biggest complaints about neighbours, surveys reveal, is that their gardens are untidy or neglected.
All through the winter, you might never see the neighbours. Then suddenly, with balmy days, there’s an opportunity to reach out. I hesitate to speak of social obligations but undoubtedly, unless you’re actually conducting a feud, it does seem unfriendly not to speak should you coincide in your gardens. A few pleasantries (‘Your tulips are stunning this year’) make a larger contribution to the social cohesion of the neighbourhood. But some people are shy or confused as to what to do. You might have to take the initiative and bowl over to the fence.
Conversations of this nature should occur at the boundary. If the neighbour is super-polite they’ll get up from their lounger. Not least is the advantage that you can withdraw from the frontier to mark the end of the conversation, which might solve your problem with your other neighbour who is a little overenthusiastic. A cheerful ‘Oh well, I must pinch out the sweet peas,’ might accompany your withdrawal. Maybe the problem is they don’t know how to end the conversation – they’ll be glad of the hint. On the other hand, they might continue to boom at you from halfway across your garden, in which case, reapproach and say, ‘I’d love to carry on chatting, but I must spread chicken manure. It’s awfully smelly. I’m sure you’d rather keep away. Maybe I’ll see you tomorrow.’
An important exception or clarification to all of the above is as follows: only hail neighbours in their back gardens if you can see them. If they’re secluded on some kind of patio that they’ve clearly rigged up with a high fence all around for privacy, and you can hear, but not see, them, then do not disturb.
Please send your questions to Thomas.blaikie@lady.co.uk or write to him at The Lady, 39-40 Bedford Street, London WC2E 9ER
WHAT TO DO… if you wish to applaud at a funeral
Many years ago, watching by chance a clip of the funeral of a Sicilian magistrate murdered by the Mafia, I was astonished and greatly moved by the huge and unwavering applause offered to the coffin as it entered Palermo Cathedral. It seemed to me an Italian custom, previously unknown to me. When some Italian UN officers were killed in the recent Haiti earthquake, the Town Council of Florence, where one of them came from, stood and applauded.Now we are doing it here. At the recent funeral of Baroness Thatcher, those so minded in the crowd (the majority of people, apparently) applauded as the coffi n passed. Others shouted in protest.
Whether in our new ‘open’ society, the dead are to be barracked at their own obsequies on a regular basis is another matter. But I love applause at a funeral, both within and without the church.
There’s something terribly touching and absurd about it, poignantly recalling delirious evenings in the theatre or opera house as if a person’s life were some extravagant and glorious production from which they are now bowing out.