To be honest with you, I never went to finishing school, and etiquette lessons haven’t played a big part in my life.
I’m a bit rough round the edges, and Julia has trouble keeping me on the right side of social acceptibility.
It has been tough being a member of the National Trust over the last few years because the Trust, and most of its volunteers, actually seem to think they belong in the massive houses they look after. It’s very difficult not to point out that this is not the case.
The original owners would have sneered at them, peered through their monocles or lorgnettes, and instructed the under footman to direct the scum round to the Tradesmen’s Entrance.
My great-great grandfather, H. A. Carus, was active in the early cooperative movement and stood (unsuccessfully) in Local Elections as a member of the Independent Labour Party. I think I’ve inherited some of his outlook.
This is my ancestral home – nine members of the Carus family lived in the dark house.
This is the house at Clumber Park before it burnt down. It’s a bit bigger than the Carus house.
One of my other ancestors was possibly a Chartist who spent some time on the run from the forces of law and order. I have to say “possibly” because I can’t, so far, prove that they are the same man. They did have the same name, and live in the same town at the same time, so there’s still a chance I can tie it up.
There are worse people to have in the family.
Anyway, back to the point.
As you may recall, I bought Julia membership of the Royal Horticultural Society for Christmas. We have just had some emails about flower shows. It seems that they think highly of themselves, even more highly than the staff of the National Trust think of themselves.
If I want to book tickets they will allow me use of the a phone line that costs 7 pence a minute, in addition to my own charges.
They also demand that I obey their rules on reselling tickets. I’m busily trying to think of anything else I buy that I have to have permission to resell. If I break the rules I will be banned from their flower shows.
I also have to take a passport or photo driving license to prove my identity when visiting the show.
Yes, that’s official. If I want to go to the Chatsworth Flower Show I have to show photo ID.
A passport to go to Derbyshire!?
Has the world gone mad?
(Note the use of the Interrobang.) It’s addictive.
It’s the last time I join something with “Royal” in the title.
I can just imagine you lurking outside Trent Bridge touting your tickets
🙂 I have a sheepskin jacket that used to belong to my father so I can dress the part.
🙂
I gave up my RHS membership years ago… it’s not for the likes of us commoners. Although I have to say whenever I have bought tickets to concerts in recent years there have been similar dire warnings about not reselling… although they don’t tend to go as far as photo id for admission.
I can see safety problems at concerts and sports events and massive rip-offs of fans – but not at a flower show. 🙂
you are forgetting the triffids
That is true.
It is the AA for you then rather than the RAC!
That is true. It is also a whole new antidote.
Edit: That should be “anecdote”. 🙂
Brilliant! That made me laugh a lot! Especially “the Trust, and most of its volunteers, actually seem to think they belong in the massive houses they look after.” A passport to get to Derby, whatever next? Excellent stuff!
🙂 Thank you.
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I share your sentiments. When the commentators say admiring, “Such and Such House has been in the possession of the Such and Such family for four centuries, I always add, “and so have the rents of all their tenants.”
Nice one, Comrade T! 🙂 The owners of Clumber Park also used to own the Hope Diamond. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hope_Diamond
If ones goes far back enough, to the dim dawn of Life, we are all descendants of microbial life forms.
According to Julia I have not evolved as far from microbial life form as some other people…
What. The. Heck.
🙂 I’m hitting Maximum Curmudgeon today.
I can see why. So off-putting.
🙂 Today, I am being cheerful.