I am normally intensely suspicious of national stereotypes, although I have to admit that as fuel for comedy they do have a certain attraction. This morning I began to ask myself whether there might actually be something in them.
Under the current isolation regime it is recommended that we make as few trips out of our homes as possible, so we have taken to visiting the supermarket only once a week, on Friday mornings. I got there quite early this morning, but already the car-park was three-quarters full. The management had put in place a system of regulating the numbers inside the building so that we could all observe the recommended “social distance” of 2 metres. The queue already extended around three sides of the car park, with spaces of 2 metres marked out with tape on the ground. At the entrance to the shop it was possible to use disinfectant either for your hands or the trolley, or both. (I had my own latex gloves.) The person managing the line was allowing “one in, one out”, and this was working well, so that I did not need to wait for more than about fifteen minutes before entering the store.
There we were at that point addressed by a staff member who resembled one of those classic Second World War sergeants-major from the movies, who issues instructions about acceptable behaviour and the rules of the game, as each of us stood on our designated blue spot. I half expected to be addressed as a “horrible little man” and to have my dress criticised as not conforming to regulation. (Nobody else was wearing latex gloves.) Once inside there was a one-way system around the aisles and a designated queueing zone to pay and leave.
I couldn’t help but be struck by the patience and good manners of the customers. Everybody was doing exactly what they were supposed to do, although the need to abide strictly by the rules of the game was irksome and resulted in delays. Then it struck me. We’re in a queue! What do the English do best? We wait in line. Our biggest complaint against foreigners is that they don’t know how to queue. The experience was tapping into the deepest level of our national culture. We were all behaving exactly as we knew we should, and as we had been brought up to do from our infancy. We were being quintessentially English!