Notes on living in England

My parents came to visit me in London a few weeks ago. Because they had already been to London before, I knew we didn’t have to sweat through all the traditional touristy bits of the city. I knew I could experiment more with the places and experiences I wanted them to see. Maybe show them a tiny pub on the bank of the Thames as the sun sets behind the horizon, a busy Shoreditch restaurant full of groups of friends enjoying the moment, or the morning sun rising over Liverpool Street as the city gets back to work. I wanted to give them a tiny glimpse of London and England as I have started to see it since I landed at Heathrow three years ago.

As I was compiling that list, I started to think about the bits of English culture (if there is even such a thing, though) that I came to cherish and love. Pubs with their coziness, people apologizing when bumping into each other, the uplifting small chats that are started between strangers almost everywhere, and many, many more. This essay is an attempt to collect these tiny puzzles of English life.

I am not claiming to give comprehensive coverage of the entire culture - there is so much more that I would have to cover, and a lot of that would be quite depressing (think imperial heritage and its consequences, everyday presence of food banks on the streets around the country, and crumbling state infrastructure). Also, I am a middle-class (kombucha-loving, Waitrose-shopping, and Carhartt-wearing), pretty pale (and getting paler every year of living here) white guy, so my range of experiences will definitely be severely limited. Therefore, try to think of this essay as an ode to Englishness rather than an analysis. A single painting rather than an exhibition. An aspiration rather than a description.

Nothing is more fundamental to the fabric of English social life than a pub. The pub is the principal meeting point of communities. It doesn’t only serve as a place where to have a drink, but it’s often a diner place too, and sometimes supplants even completely different social functions, like a post office, or a bank. It crosses gender and age boundaries. That’s quite in contrast to equivalent institutions in some European countries where pubs are heavily adult male-dominated. In England, that’s not the case. Everyone is welcome.

My personal hypothesis of why pubs became such a structural pillar of English culture is because of the weather. Very unexpected and controversial, right?! There are only a handful of European countries where it rains more than in England. Combined with a relatively short length of daylight (again compared to the rest of Europe), the interior spaces must have historically offered protection from rain and a sufficient supply of artificial light. This is similar to some Nordic countries, where the place that evokes the utmost feelings of coziness is the home sofa (think hygge). There is a beautiful saying about a sunny city called Seville in southern Spain by one of its historians, Francisco Morales Padrón: “The people of Seville don’t invite to their homes, the invitation is on the street”. Lovely, right? This couldn’t be further from true about English cities though. A correct saying here would be: “In English cities, people invite you to the pub, because it’s pissing it down outside, again!”

As with any foundational community infrastructure in the past (think churches, courts, town halls), people took good care in designing and building their pubs. Pubs were another place of pride for their communities. Decorated with rich golden signs and titles on the facade announcing the quality of the beer served (“Real Cask Ale Here”), crafted wooden counters and pillars, and walls decorated with historical memorabilia, or drawings inside. The aesthetic quality of pubs never stops mesmerizing me and I hope to write a 1,500-page hardback one day about it. Until then, I will just recommend you visit Prospect of Whitby, Fitzroy Tavern, or Trafalgar Tavern in London. Or actually, head over to any pub in the country and I am certain you will be captivated!

In addition to being aesthetically very pleasing, pubs started feeling like home as people were spending more and more time there. And this is another important feature of pubs - they are incredibly cozy! Just try sitting with your friends or family in a pub on a Saturday or, even better, Sunday afternoon. Notice the light humming of other people’s voices, dogs bouncing around on the wooden floor, and parents playing with kids at the table. All while surrounded by walls decorated with curved golden frames with historical photos or drawings. You are enjoying your cold cask ale with the people you love. “Can I have another one, mate?”

Even though pubs are great, they are surprisingly not the only differentiating feature of English culture. Another big part is the different aspects of social interactions. And from those, the word “sorry” always stood out for me - it’s used by everyone, everywhere, and all the time. Did you brush your elbows against someone in a shop, are you leaving an elevator by passing (too) close to someone else, or did you inadvertently skip the queue in a pub? All require a “sorry”. However, I don’t think its prevalence is the most fascinating bit; I think there is something more fundamental behind its usage.

The convention is for all participants of any “awkward” interaction to say sorry (or at least “no worries” / “no bother” as a reply). Did you bump into somebody? Say sorry. Did someone else bump into you? Say sorry. You both didn’t pay attention and bumped into each other? No exception, say sorry. The convention for all parties to apologize erases the question of who is guilty and completely skips any potential arguments, bad blood, or blaming. Even if it would be crystal clear that you (or the other person) were negligent and are fully responsible for the slightly embarrassing situation, both parties are obliged to de-escalate. Of course, we are talking about minor social inconveniences. If you were to cause any serious damage or injury by your actions, the aggrieved party would probably not apologize. But in the majority of social interactions without major human or material consequences, both parties apologize. You both say sorry and move on. This creates an extremely strong positive undercurrent of everyday experiences. By potentially acknowledging your part in small social faux pas, you don’t assume bad intentions from other people. We all make mistakes, let’s not make a big deal out of them.

The undercurrent of positivity in your everyday walks of life is even accentuated by omnipresent small talk. The English have perfected the art of small talk - weather, your weekend, current events, all great topics for a quick chat that tells very little. For a lot of people from outside the aisles, it might feel quite discomforting and challenging to keep up with it. Why is this random dude telling me about his family trip to a brewery somewhere in Essex, should I care? The main function of small talk, however, is not in the contents. It’s more about being open to establishing a positive human connection with people around you. It’s a very democratic gesture that signals that we value our fellow citizens and can share a quick laugh with them. There is no one that you couldn’t have a quick chat with - a business person on a bus, people standing in the queue, or your neighbor. It’s again a gesture that crosses class, age, and gender boundaries.

After your daily interactions with your fellow citizens turn you into the most easy-going and light-hearted chap (or gal), you might start embracing another of the core English cultural traits - silliness. The English predilection for light-hearted humor expresses itself in a lot of ways - you can spot it as part of conversational humor and the English penchant for a good dad joke (watch anything by Monty Python), in wearing elaborate and funny dresses for parties by equally young and old, or by embracing a drink at almost any hour of the day and just enjoying the moment.

Emma Beddington wrote recently a telling piece on Guardian that exemplifies the everyday silliness perfectly. She described how she was embarrassed explaining to her French in-laws visiting England about all the problems of the country, from the cost of living crisis, never-ending train and NHS strikes, to minimal social security compared to France. However, at the end of their stay, the in-laws were captivated by a group of dressed-up women having an early morning drink on a train heading to see Tina Tuner’s musical, clearly having a great time. Emma took the recognition without hesitation: “In multi-generational boozy fun if nothing else, we’re still an inspiration.” I couldn’t agree more!

There are quite a few more traits of the culture that I could mention (queueing, generational, and family-bonding aspects of football watching), but I have covered the core of what personally transformed me the most after I moved to the UK. I have recently started to find it more and more difficult to think about the uplifting when the news about the outlook of the country looks so dire. So I said I would keep reminding myself from time to time why life here can still be so enchanting. Feeling cozy in a pub, having a cheerful chat with strangers, and enjoying all the silly moments of life. It might not be a lot, but it’s definitely enough to get one through those foggy days.