In a tiny little village in Umbria I found the only place that had an Internet connection. I stopped in to use it and bumped into the only Englishman I’d seen since I got there.
John Cigarini used to run BFCS. That was the production company that won the Palme d’Or at Cannes five years running.
That’s like a football club winning the European Cup five times in a row. I hadn’t seen John for ages, and the temperature was 42 C, so we popped into the nearest bar for an ice-cold beer and a chat.
Because John lives in Umbria, I asked him, “Why are the British so well-liked in Italy, when we’re not popular anywhere else?”
John’s answer was interesting. He said, “It’s a very different sort of Brit who comes to Italy from the ones who go to Spain.”
Now that may seem obvious, but it had never occurred to me. I thought Brits were Brits.
But, as John pointed out, that’s not necessarily true. A lot of Brits who go on holiday to Spain are an entirely younger crowd. Singles on package holidays, the Club 18-30 crowd. They want two weeks of booze and laughter, clubbing and sex.
Those sort of Brits don’t go to Italy because that isn’t on offer there. The Brits that do go to Italy are a different sort.
They want two weeks of peace and quiet, good food, good wine, lazing in the sun. Maybe the occasional cultural trip to a Duomo to see a Piero della Francesca in its natural setting. Maybe a classical concert in a medieval hilltop town.
I knew we all liked different things. But I hadn’t previously realised that there were two distinct sorts of Brits. And then I remembered a TV programme I’d seen years ago.
It was called “Holiday Swap” I think. They took a middle class and a working class family and got them to swap holidays.
This meant the middle class family had to go to Butlins. Obviously this was a disaster waiting to happen. Non-stop noise, pop music blaring out everywhere, never left alone for a minute.
Constantly being pestered by organisers to join in games at the swimming pool. Forced mass-enjoyment, when all you want to do is lie in the sun and read a book.
The middle-class wife was surprised when all the other women left the pool at around 4pm every afternoon. She found the reason for this was while she was having a G&T, they were changing into jewellery and floor length evening dresses. Ready for the evening’s organised entertainment of pop music and stage shows.
For me the middle-class family’s youngest son summed the dichotomy up best. He said to his dad, “How come you’re the only father here who hasn’t got any tattoos?”
So, no surprises there.
I knew they’d hate Butlins, everyone would wouldn’t they? Apparently not.
What surprised me was the next part. The working class family went to a villa in Tuscany.
It was everything you’d want: secluded setting, beautiful pool, no neighbours. Everything for the perfect holiday. They hated it.
They said, “We don’t know what to do with ourselves. The whole place is dead, there’s not a sound anywhere. There’s no one here but us, so there’s no one to talk to. And there’s no one around to organise any games or entertainment.
Nothing to do but lie in the sun and swim in the pool, it’s really boring. Maybe people who read books would enjoy it. But we’re not great readers, so there’s nothing here for us.”
They were so bored and fed up that they packed up and came home early. The wife said, “This has been the worst holiday ever. We’ve just been down to the travel agents and booked up next year’s holiday at Butlins to cheer ourselves up.”
I thought the Brits were all just one sort of people with slightly different tastes. But maybe I’m too close to it.
John Cigarini’s remark, and that programme, made me think.
Maybe we actually are two different sorts of people.
Try to analyse the population of any country you can think of and you'll identify the same two categories.
Fascinating observations. Have you ever been to an all italian resort during August? I have. The only Brit on a small beach outside Amalfi. Wall to wall italian families and group squeezed in together, talking over each other and loving it. Plenty of coffee, cold drinks, newpapers (paparazzi style) and fags. They did pretty much the same thing everyday for a fortnight. It exhausted me just watching them. Rabbit, rabbit, rabbit.
I was recently coerced into spending four days at a Centre Parcs. Very different. It's a kind of theme park for the morbidly obese who want to appear to be making an effort. In other words, lots of fat people riding around in circles on bikes. Fashion tip for you here: avoid wearing the current trend for low slung jeans with your Calvin's exposed on a mountain bike. Better still, avoid following anyone who doesn't. Builders' Bum Fest.
When it comes down to it. I suspect the British differentiator in Dave's post is between those who read books and them that don't!
To contemplate, to savour, to think 'nothing', like reading, is unfashionable.
I wouldn't blame anyone for accusing me of sounding like an intellectual snob.
Oh well.
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It seems to me that this is about class, there is no getting round it. The Middle Class read books and appreciate the finer things in life - conversation, wine and know how to relax. The Working Class generally do not read, do not have the imagination to enjoy a Tuscan villa. Now that may be classist but it's true.
Having said that I read, but cannot bear sitting on a beach or by a pool day after day without doing things - like white water rafting, sea-kayaking, rock climbing, canyoning and playing cricket wherever in the world I happen to be.
So maybe its about attitude rather than anything else.
How unbelievably obvious! Where has Dave been all these years. People who go to Southend are different from people who go to Rock. People who go to Tuscant are different from those who prefer the East Coast resorts. People who go to noisy Torremolinos are different from those who opt for the quiet calm of Menorca. Oh, and people who live in N6 don't have much in common with people from Tower Hamlets. It's about class and wealth - the two dynamics that dominate so many markets. Nothing new!
That may have been my point 673639.
I lived in Barking for the first 20 years of my life, I've lived in Hampstead for the last 20 years.
I used to go to Southend every bank holiday (I've no idea where Rock is).
I've been to Tuscany but not the east coast (of Italy).
I haven't been to Torremmolinos or Menorca.
As I said, all this may be very obvious to everyone else.
I went to art school so we were all just culturally pick'n'mix.
I didn't see us split down the middle, maybe because I didn't want to.
Is it a class thing? My Dad's from Knowle West and my Mum's from a mill town in Greater Manchester, so my background and upbringing is staunchly working class (even though I wasn't brought up in a back-to-back or on a big estate) - and I'm not illiterate, lazy, morbidly obese or stupid. I don't go on holiday to Sarfend or Blackpool - although I will confess to flashing a bit of pant as I ride my BMX.
It's horses for courses - just because it's where you come from doesn't mean it's who you are. And just because it's not your cup of tea it doesn't mean the milk is sour.
Sweeping generalisations about who people are tend to brush individuality under the carpet.
Gotnoteef is right. It's not about where you come from. But it is about where you go. In your head. Imagination stetches your horizons with each journey. Journeys can be in cars, trains, planes, and books. Sometimes a journey can begin with a book and end with a ticket to somewhere unimagined before. The class system is alive and well all around us. The education system is not so alive and well. So less people read books. I have a teenager who got an 'A' in French and can't speak a word of it. Kids are not encouraged to learn and retain. They are encouraged to pass and move on. God, I'm getting grumpy.
Curiosity and little bit of risk makes life far more interesting. Back on to travel again. Broadens the mind, don't you know!
Bob is right - it's about encouragement to open your mind and grasp new experiences - to make journeys (physical and mental). My Dad left Bristol on a one-way ticket for Montreal aged 19 and didn't come back for 14 years - he lived with the Salvation Army, in hostels, with welcoming families, with new friends - he moved around - Toronto, Quebec, New York, Chicago, Miami, Cincinati, L.A - he took in everythng Canada and the Us had to offer (apart from the Vietnam War).
He told me when I was 14 that I'd have to leave home after A-levels and get a job or go to Uni, then learn to stand on my own, to take responsibility and experience the world for myself. Nows there's encouragement to experience new things.
I went to school at a dead-end comp and gravitated towards other kids with aspirations beyond the local factory and leanings away from the accepted norm.
I am a product of my environment in as much as I didn't want to work for fifty years doing something that didn't inspire me, because as I was growing up I'd seen all the sorry faces of those poor sods that had taken that option.
I am a product of my environment and I'm proud of where I come from (both personal and family roots) - but I'm not type-cast by it.
Bob and Gotnoteef,
How about if there are two groups, but they overlap like a Venn diagram.
Where we exist is in the overlap.
The two main circles are people who are happier staying with what they know.
The overlap is people who are happier to experiment.
I used to think everyone lived in the overlap just because I did.
Always found it 'interesting' to be a conduit to both worlds. A foot in each camp so to speak. Maybe some of us just enjoy being the point of difference?
hey Dave - community.brandrepublic.com/.../tesco-com-my-poor-customer-experience.aspx
Apparently the Tesco at Rock is rubbish.
My wife's from Singapore and she'd never been to Southend.
When I took her there she wanted to know why the people walking along the front in swimming trunks looked like they were wearing wellington boots.
I had to explain they'd just been paddling and that was mud.
mad dogs and englishmen
Hi Dave,
Years ago I was married to a French wife who kept pestering me to go on a Pontin's holiday with the mother-in-law (a distinctly French female). I warned her it was a bad idea, but she wouldn't have it, so we went. Doh!
It was the most disastrous holiday I've ever had for the reasons you outlined above. Drowning my sorrows at the bar, a working class concentration camp of enforced pleasure, I came upon a grandmother with a nice big tatoo on her arm, ordering a pint of mild whilst telling everyone at the bar: "If that bastard compare doesn't give me the first prize for best granny I'm going to get on that stage and punch his lights out". Fortunately for everyone present, she won. As terrible an experience as it was, it's a memory full of great stories and scripts that hopefully one day I'll be able to use. I can still see the bleery-eyed Redcoat pretending to be a Magician one minute, and a Las Vegas Singer the next, having been a yawning Childminder in the afternoon, and a drunk the night before, once off duty:-
Hi de hi !
Ho de ho !
I promised myself from that day on never to go to a holiday camp ever again and never did until I unsuspectingly went to a Russian 'Sanatorie' (They vary, this one was a working class ski resort). It made Pontins amenities and entertainment look fantastic. That's no criticism of Russia, or Russian people, its simply a fact of life that different people have different lifestyles, standards, traditions, and expectations, and those standards, lifestyles, expectations, traditions, will change through life. The individual may be the agent of change or life may change the individual. The most important thing is the ability to be able to adapt no matter what life throws at us, and the adworld is the perfect training ground for this because it is dealing with change daily.
Much to the dismay of my wife, the Russian Sanatorie had been left to fall apart in private hands, having been better kept under Communism! (yes, the people with no money did a better job than the people with). This was also a place for the Working Classes. However, it was quiet, people were very friendly and well mannered, everyone went skiing in the most beautiful snow-swept forests you can imagine. Most people read books, and had far less possessions than any British working class family can imagine. We had a great time because unlike their British counterparts, the Russian working classes had a lot of self-respect, and did not become abusive or disturb others after a lot of drink, whereas some of the British working class on holiday are the scourge of Europe because they do not know how to behave in anyone else's country.
It seems to me, the responsibility lies in behaviour. A well read person whether Upper, Middle, Working, or Unemployed, is far less likely to make themselves a nuisance to others. Good or bad, holidays are most definitely an education.
As I said above, the class system is alive and well. But I have a problem with labelling badly behaved English as working class. I know a lot of the sweetest, well-mannered people you could meet who regard themselves as working class. I don't consider myself anything else. I grew up on a council estate. Went to a secondary modern school. When my dear old mum & dad died, all I inherited was my mum's work ethic and my dad's sense of humour. Ignorance seems to be a class in itself. I not a church goer. But one of my favourite books is by one time Bishop of Edinburgh, Richard Holloway. It's called Godless Morality. He put it to us that by this stage in humankinds development, we should be taking more responsibility for our ethics. It's highly intelligent viewpoint and give some unique insight into how people still defer responsibility. In the case of badly behaved holidaymakers, they'll blame someone else, anyone, the system, society, their mums and dads for what they impose on the rest of us. We can only be effectly responsible for ourselves. We learn from others and make our choices. Someone is going to post something Aristotlean or Platonic on the question of 'can you still have ethics without rules'? I'm too rusty on my philosophy 101 to deliver a suitable reference. Anyone? Anyone?
Yup, same for me Bob.
The working class I was brought up uin had the accent definitely on working.
Personally I found Sartre more relevant.
The concept of taking personal responsibillity for your life, instead of blaming everything on someone else, is what I was taught.
Maybe that's how we can differentiate between the working class and the underclass.
The Wayne and Waynettas.
I've done Pontins and Butlins but not Centre Parcs…yet!
Stuart Maconie's 'Pies and Prejudice' is a jaunty read about class of sorts be it from a northern perspective.
Dave, I wonder if we can ever evolve to where our language is rich enough that we can discard labels - Toffs, Chavs, working class, Posh, Pikey, Waynes & Waynettas. We all do it. We pigeon hole ourselves and each other on look, accent, sexual orientation, anything we can clutch at to create yet another tribe.
I have a debate with those who believe in an after life, kingdom of Heaven, Paradise. I say what about the virtuous guy in the wilderness. Existing outside any concept of a God or heaven. Yet he goes about his daily life selflessly unaware that his relationship with every living creature and thing around him is one of love, respect and caring. He does no harm. He shares the world with no desire to own any of it or exploit it. If there is a Heaven, when he dies will he find himself in that afterlife Paradise? The answer I get is always, no. Because he has not accepted God as his salvation. I say, but he doesn't need salvation, surely God sees that, he sees all things in us. Doesn't he? It doesn't work like that they say. It bring to mind the sketch Ben Elton wrote for Rowan Atkinson, Welcome To Hell. Atkinson is the Devil (you can call me Toby) who welcomes newcomers in alphabetical order, after Americans he welcomes atheists to whom he says, "I bet you feel like a right bunch of Charlies don't you?"
Human decency exists in all walks of life - rich, poor, highly educated, illiterate, even in advertising. But by the same token there are some complete t**ts who wear those very same labels. I blame researchers! Maybe that's it, we need scapegoats. Yes, I blame the scapegoats.
Hi Bob,
What makes language good is also what makes it bad: it limits thought.
If it didn't we couldn't use it for communication.
Limiting thought for communication is already a step on the way to generalisations.
So another way to think of generalisations is shorthand.
But apparently words are only 25% of communication.
So when we exchange words, like this, we lose 75% of our communication.
I think the structuralists are really interesting in this area: Saussure, Barthes, Levi Srauss.
I'm liking this Dave. So, are you saying, that which defines us most is that which we do not or cannot articulate...in written or spoken language, at least? I've always contended that music and art (painting, sculpture etc) are much closer to each other than they are to literature. I love writing, writers, books. But, music, for example, does things to me that the most crafted, heartfelt, beautiful sentence cannot do. Different languages. Different vocabularies.
I'm not familiar with Saussure and not so sure about Barthes, so I'm going to google them and then check them out on Amazon. I have no choice but to begin with words on the subject. To limit my thinking or open my mind? I wonder if they composed any music as well? If so, it's sure to be on Amazon too. Read the book, got the CD & seen DVD.
Not really sure what this has had to do 'English Spanish & English Italian'. But I never fail to get something out of these posts. Thank you. Keep it up.
RE: Yes, I blame the scapegoats.
I was going to post in the other thread about differences Brit vs. Yank, but I think this thread an even better forum for that. It is one of the reasons I enjoy dropping in on Dave’s blog so much; the opportunity to peek into the British mindset from over this side of the Atlantic. The class issues discussed here do seem foreign to this Yankee’s ear. I recognize the pigeon holing, the generalizations, the argument from anecdote; but generally over here in the states this fun is reserved for left/right distinctions, maybe nationalized/foreign distinctions, less and less racial distinctions, and little energy is placed into grouping people into working (blue collar) class vs. middle (white collar) class teams. This was more a staple of my grandparent’s generation when a lot of people moved from the trades to office worker careers and the attendant status and money that came with working “clean”.
Probably a more germane class distinction here – given the fluidity in class movement which blatantly defines America – are the new money vs. old money cultural battles. The bawdy, LOUD, tasteless behavior that is poked fun of in this thread is only heightened in the nouveau riche where there is money to back it up, and you can’t kick them out of the hotel because they are all paid up. The old neighborhood doesn’t like it one bit! But, luckily these new money folks spend through it in a generation or two at the worst, and the tradesmen building their fountains and statuary the real, and happy, recipients of the new wealth. Ha!
I wonder how dynamic the movement between classes is in the UK these days really. I would suspect, given the similarities in economic systems and work ethics, that the boundaries between classes is a lot more porous than evidenced so far in this discussion? Maybe not?
And Bob A., enjoying your commentary. Well put.
mm
Dave Trott
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