Watching the English

GROOMING-TALK

I described weather-speak in the previous chapter as a form of 'grooming-talk'. Most of the much-vaunted human capacity for complex language is in fact devoted to such talk - the verbal equivalent of picking fleas off each other or mutual back-scratching.

Grooming-talk starts with greeting-talk. Weather-speak is needed in this context partly because greetings and introductions are such an awkward business for the English. The problem has become particularly acute since the decline of 'How do you do?' as the standard, all-purpose greeting. The 'How do you do?' greeting - where the correct response is not to answer the question, but to repeat it back, 'How do you do?', like an echo or a well-trained parrot13 - is still in use in upper-class and upper-middle circles, but the rest are left floundering, never knowing quite what to say. Instead of sneering at the old-fashioned stuffiness of the 'How do you do?' ritual, we would do better to mount a campaign for its revival: it would solve so many problems.

Awkwardness Rules

As it is, our introductions and greetings tend to be uncomfortable, clumsy and inelegant. Among established friends, there is less awkwardness, although we are often still not quite sure what to do with our hands, or whether to hug or kiss. The French custom of a kiss on each cheek has become popular among the chattering classes and some other middle- and upper-middle-class groups, but is regarded as silly and pretentious by many other sections of society, particularly when it takes the form of the 'air-kiss'. Women who use this variant (and it is only women; men do not air-kiss, unless they are very camp gays, and even then it is done 'ironically') are disparagingly referred to as 'Mwah-Mwahs'. Even in the social circles where cheek-kissing is acceptable, one can still never be entirely sure whether one kiss or two is required, resulting in much awkward hesitation and bumping as the parties try to second-guess each other.

Handshakes are now the norm in business introductions - or rather, they are the norm when people in business are introduced to each other for the first time. Ironically, the first introduction, where a degree of formality is expected, is the easiest. (Note, though, that the English handshake is always somewhat awkward, very brief, performed 'at arm's length', and without any of the spare-hand involvement - clasping, forearm patting, etc. - found in less inhibited cultures.)

At subsequent meetings, particularly as business contacts get to know each other better, a handshake greeting often starts to seem too formal, but cheek-kisses would be too informal (or too pretentious, depending on the social circle), and in any case not allowed between males, so we revert to the usual embarrassed confusion, with no-one being quite sure what to do. Hands are half-extended and then withdrawn or turned into a sort of vague wave; there may be awkward, hesitant moves towards a cheek-kiss or some other form of physical contact such as an arm-touch - as no contact at all feels a bit unfriendly - but these are also often aborted half-way. This is excruciatingly English: over-formality is embarrassing, but so is an inappropriate degree of informality (that problem with extremes again).

The No-name Rule

In purely social situations, the difficulties are even more acute. There is no universal prescription of handshakes on initial introduction - indeed, they may be regarded as too 'businesslike' - and the normal business practice of giving one's name at this point is also regarded as inappropriate. You do not go up to someone at a party (or in any other social setting where conversation with strangers is permitted, such as a pub bar counter) and say 'Hello, I'm John Smith,' or even 'Hello, I'm John.' In fact, the only correct way to introduce yourself in such settings is not to introduce yourself at all, but to find some other way of initiating a conversation - such as a remark about the weather.

The 'brash American' approach: 'Hi, I'm Bill from Iowa,' particularly if accompanied by an outstretched hand and beaming smile, makes the English wince and cringe. The American tourists and visitors I spoke to during my research had been both baffled and hurt by this reaction. 'I just don't get it,' said one woman. 'You say your name and they sort of wrinkle their noses, like you've told them something a bit too personal and embarrassing.' 'That's right,' her husband added. 'And then they give you this tight little smile and say "Hello" - kind of pointedly not giving their name, to let you know you've made this big social booboo. What the hell is so private about a person's name, for God's sake?'

I ended up explaining, as kindly as I could, that the English do not want to know your name, or tell you theirs, until a much greater degree of intimacy has been established - like maybe when you marry their daughter. Rather than giving your name, I suggested, you should strike up a conversation by making a vaguely interrogative comment about the weather (or the party or pub or wherever you happen to be). This must not be done too loudly, and the tone should be light and informal, not earnest or intense. The object is to 'drift' casually into conversation, as though by accident. Even if the other person seems happy enough to chat, it is still customary to curb any urges to introduce yourself.

Eventually, there may be an opportunity to exchange names, providing this can be achieved in a casual, unforced manner, although it is always best to wait for the other person to take the initiative. Should you reach the end of a long, friendly evening without having introduced yourself, you may say, on parting, 'Goodbye, nice to meet you, er, oh - I didn't catch your name?' as though you have only just noticed the omission. Your new acquaintance should then divulge his or her name, and you may now, at last, introduce yourself - but in an offhand way, as though it is not a matter of any importance: 'I'm Bill, by the way.'

One perceptive Dutch tourist, after listening attentively to my explanation of this procedure, commented: 'Oh, I see. It is like Alice Through the Looking Glass: you do everything the wrong way round.' I had not thought of recommending Alice as a guide to English etiquette, but on reflection it seems like quite a good idea.

The 'Pleased to Meet You' Problem

In a small social gathering such as a dinner party, the host may solve the name problem by introducing guests to each other by name, but these are still awkward moments, as the decline of 'How do you do?' means that no-one is quite sure what to say to each other when introduced in this manner. 'How are you?', despite having much the same meaning, and being equally recognised as a non-question (the correct response is 'Very well, thank you' or 'Fine, thanks' whatever your state of health or mind), will not do in initial introductions, as custom dictates that it may only be used as a greeting between people who already know each other. Even though it does not require an honest answer, 'How are you?' is far too personal and intimate a question for first-time introductions.

The most common solution, nowadays, is 'Pleased to meet you' (or 'Nice to meet you' or something similar). But in some social circles - mainly upper-middle class and above, although some at the higher end of middle-middle are affected - the problem with this common response is that it is just that: 'common', meaning a lower-class thing to say. The people who hold this view may not put it quite like this - they are more likely to say that 'Pleased to meet you' is 'incorrect', and you will indeed still find etiquette books that confirm this. The explanation offered by some etiquette books is that one should not say 'Pleased to meet you' as it is an obvious lie: one cannot possibly be sure at that point whether one is pleased to meet the person or not. Given the usual irrationalities, dishonesties and hypocrisies of English etiquette, this seems unnecessarily and quite uncharacteristically scrupulous.

Whatever its origins or dubious logic, the prejudice against 'Pleased to meet you' is still quite widespread, often among people who do not know why it is that they feel uneasy about using the phrase. They just have a vague sense that there is something not quite right about it. But even among those with no class prejudice about 'Pleased to meet you', who believe it is the correct and polite thing to say, this greeting is rarely delivered with ringing confidence: it is usually mumbled rather awkwardly, and as quickly as possible - 'Plstmtye'. This awkwardness may, perversely, occur precisely because people believe they are saying the 'correct' thing. Formality is embarrassing. But then, informality is embarrassing. Everything is embarrassing.

The Embarrassment Rule

In fact, the only rule one can identify with any certainty in all this confusion over introductions and greetings is that, to be impeccably English, one must perform these rituals badly. One must appear self-conscious, ill-at-ease, stiff, awkward and, above all, embarrassed. Smoothness, glibness and confidence are inappropriate and un-English. Hesitation, dithering and ineptness are, surprising as it may seem, correct behaviour. Introductions should be performed as hurriedly as possible, but also with maximum inefficiency. If disclosed at all, names must be mumbled; hands should be tentatively half-proffered and then clumsily withdrawn; the approved greeting is something like 'Er, how, um, plstm-, er, hello?'

If you are socially skilled, or come from a country where these matters are handled in a more reasonable, straightforward manner (such as anywhere else on the planet), you may need a bit of practice to achieve the required degree of embarrassed, stilted incompetence.