English Stadium Etiquette (It's Not the same in the USA)

Last Thursday night, the mister and myself went to the Hollywood Bowl to see the brilliant Ed Sheeran. You have to, after all, support all British people/bands/acts/teams/companies that pass through Hollywood, don't you? [Okay, that's probably going a bit far]. Nevertheless, we crawled out to Los Angeles in rush hour traffic (2.5 hours, thank you very much) and it was really worth it. See....

The Hollywood Bowl is an outdoor venue with tiered seating.  A little bit like a football stadium, if you will.  Which is where it got a bit tricky.

If you've read a lot of this blog, you will know I spent much of my (mis-spent) youth at football games.  You pay a lot of money to get into those games and when you can't see the pitch because someone's standing up in front, a collective shout of "Sit Down" goes up.  Only it's not a polite Sit Down, it's more of a "SIIIIDDDDDDDAAARRRNN" sometimes followed by "You make a better door than a window mate."  Oh those days..

There I was, having stood in line for about 35 minutes for popcorn, of all things, when Mr. Sheeran came onto the stage.  Up went the cheers as I raced back to my seat.  Everyone around was sitting waiting for the first song - except for two bloody girls about three seats in front of us.  Well, of course I automatically shouted "SIIIIDDDDDDDAAARRRNN" and when they didn't, I shouted it again.  The Mister looked at me and mouthed "sit down?" with an incredulous look on his face and the lady next to me tried to hide under her seat and get as far away from me as possible (sorry stranger lady, if you're reading this).

It was so automatic I didn't realize what I'd done for a moment and then it dawned on me.  Oopsie, one is not at a football game, one better sit down and shut up.  [*sheepish grin*]  I didn't think those girls had heard me, but you know what, they didn't stand up again for the rest of the evening. (Score!)

I thought it was the English who were reluctant to show their disapproval and I couldn't believe all these people were sitting looking at other people's bums without saying anything or asking them to move.  Rude!

Here's a bit more of the show

Agony Aunts

I've just found out there is no such thing as an Agony Aunt in the United States.  Well, there is, but they’re not called agony aunts – they’re called Advice Columnists.

I was talking to a work colleague and mentioned so-and-so was a really good agony aunt.  Again I got the blank look and I could almost see a question mark above her head.  (I think this is becoming a theme). What’s an Agony Aunt? I was asked.  You know, I said, the person you write to in the newspaper and they answer your questions.  “Oh, an advice columnist” she said, “agony aunt  sounds so much nicer.”  And it does.

 

There seems to be a bit of a difference between the questions and type of Aunt/advisor in America too.
 

Marje Proops, Agony Aunt

I grew up reading Dear Deirdre, Marjorie Proops and Claire Rayner.  These women covered questions on sexual topics and various women’s issues which may have been taboo to some.  There was also relationship advice, usually in the theme of “What do I do when my boyfriend wants to tell my husband about us?” or other similar problems.   

In the case of Claire Rayner, while advising teenaged girls in 1972, she was accused of “encouraging masturbation and promiscuity in prepubescent girls.”  Later, she was one of the first people used by advertisers to promote sanitary towels. {Wikipedia.org}

 

 

 American advisors, however, seem to be more directed towards etiquette, manners and social situations and skills by the likes of Ann Landers, Dear Prudence and Dear Abby.  I don’t make a habit of reading these columns, but always see them in the Sunday paper.  There’s even one column with questions like “If I had two cars and one got this many miles to the gallon and I drove to Texas…. etc”  Not really agony aunt stuff at all.

 

So really, I’m glad I grew up in England.  I got all the advice about any personal problems and issues  I needed (real or imagined) from the daily newspaper and magazines and I never, ever had to do the oh so embarrassing thing of actually asking my mum questions.  I’m not sure who would have been the most embarrassed. 

 

And you know, everything you read in those columns is the absolute truth.   And quite obviously, if you have a serious problem, the first thing you should think of doing is write to the newspaper!



Oh Dear...boys will be boys!

 

A Little Etiquette Please

I have often wondered why Americans don’t use knives when eating.  Having been brought up to eat properly with a knife in the right hand, fork in the left, it continues to amaze me when I see people trying to actually cut their food with a fork.  Go to any restaurant and you will see it all the time. 

But what’s even more hilarious is watching them when they actually try and use both utensils.  Totally the wrong way round, they might as well be wearing boxing gloves!  The fork is always upside down and the knife, well, don’t even ask what they’re doing with the knife.  It looks a bit dangerous, as if the food is about to shoot off the plate at any minute.  You can watch this for agonizing minutes and then once the “cutting” is over, they go back to eating all their bite size pieces with only a fork, which they have switched back to the other hand.  A bit like cutting food up for your baby.



Right?

Wrong?

I have often sat and watched Dave try and cut a juicy steak with his fork, leaned over and said “You do have a knife you know, wouldn’t that be easier?”  I get “the look.”  Now I’m not saying it’s the wrong way to eat (it is), but it is just so, well, awkward and looks like a a lot of hard work. 

Here’s a short and possibly quite possibly ‘politically incorrect’ lesson in using a knife and fork the Downton Abbey way. 

 

 

I find it very peculiar and funny to watch the Americans, but I will admit I get funny looks when I’m eating Pizza and fried chicken (not at the same meal) with a knife and fork. I am told “That’s what your hands are for.” But it doesn’t feel right to eat with my hands.   That'll be my "stodgy" British upbringing. 

Oh and one more thing, when you’ve finished, America, please put your knife and fork together in middle of the plate. Thank you. That’s all.