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If it’s all right with my Blog Director and his cronies out in the readerverse, I’m going to tell you where the prompt for this post came from: Viewfromtheside’s Blog. It’s the polite thing to do, even though you don’t like it because it interferes with my ‘great literary style’ or something (see below for the quote’s source). I am going to post a link there to my blog for others to read this post, so I have to return the favour; something about it being ‘good manners’.
Which, if you haven’t worked it out yet, doofusii, is the prompt. See how I turned a fun but abusive word into Latin? That way I get to revile you and make you laugh at the same time. Read and learn, people.
By the way, if you haven’t already worked it out, it’s only polite to tell you that I have my frivolous head on this morning.
Naturally, the thought of writing about manners has made me all rude, hence the insults flying across the ether. What is it about the mention of social restraints that makes us lose them?
I don’t know and I don’t really care. Oh no, there I go again (just put that last bit in for etiquette’s sake; you can tell by the lack of inflection).
I have rather good manners: I eat with my mouth closed, send thank you notes for wonderful quilt gifts, and only break wind in front of my closest relatives. I have passed on those traits to my children; but did they thank me for it? Nooooo. I blame the parents.
Talking of quilts, that reminds me of Tory Boy (not as tenuous a link as you might think…a blanket and a wet blanket*). On the phone yesterday he told me he thought the quilt was ‘immense’. ‘No,’ I replied, ‘it’s a bit smaller than a duvet.’ Once he had stopped laughing, he explained that ‘immense’ was the new word for ‘wicked’. ‘There’s nothing wicked about Viv,’ was my indignant reply. ‘No, no. The quilt is vicious…mean…bad…evil….’ He gave up.
I think the best way to show you good manners is to share some examples and then invite comments on them. This has the bonus of allowing me to gather together random things I found interesting, under a loose theme; and upping my comment stats while looking nice doing it. See how good manners make everyone a winner?
Crossing The Floor:
This is one of my pet peeves. Three members of our Lib-Dem council, irritated by the coalition government’s cuts – cue mutters of ‘snotwhatwesignedupfor – have resigned their party membership, signed up to Labour, and are now serving as independents. Talk about eating your cake and having it too – and everyone else’s. I think it is dreadfully rude to be elected as a member of one party and then join another. Most voters elect a party, not a candidate. As far as I’m concerned, the law should be changed so that, if you resign from the party, an election must be called and the voters will let you know what they think of you trashing their ballot.
What do you think? Status quo or status quosh?
Saving A Life:
The height of good manners, I feel. Seven strangers linked arms across a flooded bridge in South Africa to save the life of a woman and her child. The woman had rudely ignored a warning from one of the men that the bridge was too dangerous to drive across and endangered his life, because he couldn’t swim yet helped save her. What a hero. What a stupid woman.
What do you think? Was Driving Miss Crazy right to selfishly endanger the life of her child and seven others?
Grounds For Divorce:
An Italian man took his mother along on his honeymoon. The bride found out at the airport. I loved my own mum-in-law but I’m with the bride on this one.
What do you think? Was she right to be miffed or was it a little bit rude to let her m-i-l know in such a dramatic fashion – I’m abandoning your son because of you - that she didn’t like her? As for the son – didn’t his mother ever tell him that it’s nice to asked?
This one I love. Musing’s daughter is snowed in, in Chicago. She sent before pictures. Dad mentioned it would have been nice to see pictures of the after three hours of snow shovelling. Tired child obliged. You don’t get better-mannered than that. Kay, you have a lovely daughter.
What do you think? All opinions published so long as they coincide with mine.
Did I write that out loud? Please forgive my discourtesy. But don’t think I don’t mean it: I may be polite but there’s a streak of iron under this velvet blog.
Tilly Bud has great literary style. Source: me.
*Sorry darling; sometimes I can’t help myself. Think of the gammon roast and find it in your heart to forgive me.