The Lady Guide to Modern Manners: 6 December
Dear Thomas,
I enjoy games – quizzes, cards, board games, even ‘Smell it, smell it’ – but some people are so competitive it spoils the fun. Is it very rude to refuse to play with these types?
Bev Margetson, Berwick-on-Tweed
Dear Bev,
Yes, I’ve heard of ‘Smell it, smell it’. I’ve even played it. You are blindfolded and someone shoves Jeyes Fluid or a tea bag or a Brussels sprout under your nose. You have to guess what it is. It’s quite fun but lacking in tension.
At bridge I’ve seen terrible scenes. Once someone was accused of cheating, rushed off to the loo and wouldn’t come out. Standards of behaviour plummet, civilisation is left behind and you’re in wild, raging terrain. Yet somehow people are more intensely themselves, which is thrilling. And not everyone is awful. I played bridge last week with a banker I’ve always thought a real brute but he turned out to be charming and diplomatic at the table.
I encourage games, especially in the forthcoming festive season, as an alternative to a state of fullfat inertia as the windows steam up. Bracing activity is just what is called for. And some games are improving and educational, such as Monopoly, which teaches the hierarchy of the districts of London.
Games should be taken seriously. Messing around, cheating for fun, pretending to have lost the dice, in the end is boring. But there’s a certain kind of joyless competitiveness I can’t bear – those shallowbreathers, so tense, who deal the cards before everyone is ready and crush all distracting banter. This breed loves to criticise under the guise of being ‘helpful’ and is so maddeningly knowall, the other players frequently hurl the board in the air before dashing from the room or even the house. You can try to tease them, but usually they will dig in further. That’s what they’re like – what can you do?
On my summer holiday, there was nothing to be done about the husband and wife who were at each other’s throats the second the Articulate! wheel was spun. We put them in separate teams, but there was no barrier over which abuse could not be hurled.
Perhaps I am defeatist: poking fun might work but don’t add fuel to the flames by shouting. Refuse to play if you can’t bear it. They’re being bold. Why shouldn’t you?
In an ideal world we’d all be poised and gracious and we’d get the balance between seriousness and enjoyment exactly right. But is there not something to be said for unstoppable wildness and driven mania? Why not throw yourself into the drama of it? What a rare spectacle. Never will you see people baring their souls so much as when at games.
Please send your questions to Thomas.blaikie@lady.co.uk or write to him at The Lady, 39-40 Bedford Street, London WC2E 9ER
It’s cruel to carp; they’re only trying to be nice and relaxed and a weeny bit alternative. But I don’t like it. There’s a remedial feeling, as if one were a playgroup. Or possibly injured.
You could stand up suddenly leaving the poor waiter crouching or perhaps toppled over entirely with the suddenness. Or pull the table violently away, which might have the same effect. But it’s not their fault. They’ve probably been told to cosy up like this.
Speaking of restaurant staff , Alastair Hendy, who runs a superb occasional service at his Home Store in Hastings, can’t bear ‘Enjoy’. He employed someone who said ‘Enjoy!’ as she put the plates before diners. It was not easy to wean her off the practice.
I enjoy games – quizzes, cards, board games, even ‘Smell it, smell it’ – but some people are so competitive it spoils the fun. Is it very rude to refuse to play with these types?
Bev Margetson, Berwick-on-Tweed
Dear Bev,
Yes, I’ve heard of ‘Smell it, smell it’. I’ve even played it. You are blindfolded and someone shoves Jeyes Fluid or a tea bag or a Brussels sprout under your nose. You have to guess what it is. It’s quite fun but lacking in tension.
At bridge I’ve seen terrible scenes. Once someone was accused of cheating, rushed off to the loo and wouldn’t come out. Standards of behaviour plummet, civilisation is left behind and you’re in wild, raging terrain. Yet somehow people are more intensely themselves, which is thrilling. And not everyone is awful. I played bridge last week with a banker I’ve always thought a real brute but he turned out to be charming and diplomatic at the table.
I encourage games, especially in the forthcoming festive season, as an alternative to a state of fullfat inertia as the windows steam up. Bracing activity is just what is called for. And some games are improving and educational, such as Monopoly, which teaches the hierarchy of the districts of London.
Games should be taken seriously. Messing around, cheating for fun, pretending to have lost the dice, in the end is boring. But there’s a certain kind of joyless competitiveness I can’t bear – those shallowbreathers, so tense, who deal the cards before everyone is ready and crush all distracting banter. This breed loves to criticise under the guise of being ‘helpful’ and is so maddeningly knowall, the other players frequently hurl the board in the air before dashing from the room or even the house. You can try to tease them, but usually they will dig in further. That’s what they’re like – what can you do?
On my summer holiday, there was nothing to be done about the husband and wife who were at each other’s throats the second the Articulate! wheel was spun. We put them in separate teams, but there was no barrier over which abuse could not be hurled.
Perhaps I am defeatist: poking fun might work but don’t add fuel to the flames by shouting. Refuse to play if you can’t bear it. They’re being bold. Why shouldn’t you?
In an ideal world we’d all be poised and gracious and we’d get the balance between seriousness and enjoyment exactly right. But is there not something to be said for unstoppable wildness and driven mania? Why not throw yourself into the drama of it? What a rare spectacle. Never will you see people baring their souls so much as when at games.
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 ABOUT… CROUCHING WAITERS
Have you experienced this: usually, when explaining the menu and taking the orders, a waiter crouches at the table. The person is suddenly a head bobbing at your side, squatting down to be at your level and explaining earnestly how the chef has decided to use coal oil with seaweed or how the bread is made by an old lady of 102.It’s cruel to carp; they’re only trying to be nice and relaxed and a weeny bit alternative. But I don’t like it. There’s a remedial feeling, as if one were a playgroup. Or possibly injured.
You could stand up suddenly leaving the poor waiter crouching or perhaps toppled over entirely with the suddenness. Or pull the table violently away, which might have the same effect. But it’s not their fault. They’ve probably been told to cosy up like this.
Speaking of restaurant staff , Alastair Hendy, who runs a superb occasional service at his Home Store in Hastings, can’t bear ‘Enjoy’. He employed someone who said ‘Enjoy!’ as she put the plates before diners. It was not easy to wean her off the practice.