Forced into semi-Anglican crouch...

For the uninitiate (and yes, I know that is not a word), the "Anglican crouch" refers to the compromise position between a 'sit' and a 'kneel' (...sounds like I'm giving commands to a dog, but be that as it may.) With my bad back and balance, I often just outright sit, a position I find preferable to imitating a snail. But the 'crouch' referred to in the title for this post is a bit different.

Apparently, those of us who have risen when the clergy enter a room are fast becoming a minority group. I have not changed my habits since that far-off day when I shortened my garb to below the knees (...this was some time before I returned to my taste for batik.) In fact, during those many years when I was a department head for an archdiocese, I could be quite a comical sight when bishops (in particular) telephoned me. Without even realising I was doing so, I stood, with the phone invariably crashing to the floor in the process! I well remember when one priest teased me, saying that he could tell that the receptionist had to be one of my staff. When he'd entered the building, she'd not only stood but asked if she could take his coat... though he did not happen to be wearing one.

Well, my sad state of the semi-Anglican crouch is to be blamed on the clergy! :) If one of them enters the room, and I rise (and, just for the record, I still believe that to do otherwise would be extremely rude), all too often I am caught halfway by the immediate, "Oh, don't get up!"

I believe that a bit of courtesy would do no one any harm, though, admittedly, today one may be swallowed whole for the normal expressions of same that the elderly (..born before 1985) were long taught. Offer a seat to someone who is 80+, and it is possible that she will take this as meaning you do not realise she goes running every morning. I just may kiss the next man who holds a door open for me. (Or is that good etiquette? In my Italian family, it would have been a sign of respect... but I can think of some families I knew where a kiss in greeting, even between spouses, was treated as if the two had begun bonking at a bus stop.)

In many ways, I am glad that the very strict, formal standards common in my youth no longer apply. For example, all of my friends' children address me as "Elizabeth," which I much prefer - in 'my day,' even people of the same generation had to wait for an invitation to call another by a Christian name. There are various other fashions in which I am glad things have become more casual.

There is an expression, once very common, which I propose be reinstated - a simple 'no, thank you.' Those of us who were trained to believe it was polite to offer others any food or drink on the table are not trying to sabotage another's slimming programme, give them heart attacks, or turn them into addicts. If one does not wish to have a particular food, wine, or whatever, 'no, thank you' is a sufficient response. There is no need to mention that "I have to drive," or "I have to watch my figure," or that "I gave up eating that when my sister died."

May I also reinstate what once was the eleventh commandment - thou shalt mind thine own business. I am by no means proposing that good friends should not confide in one another - that is a blessing. I am referring to a decent respect for the privacy of others. Meddling, today, which is probably the world's class ego game (along the lines of "I think you are beneath me - I know better than you do how you should run your life - and, if you take my advice, you just might become as wonderful as I think I am"), can too often be cloaked under 'caring about another's health,' or being 'supportive.' Balderdash. (Double annoyance points if the 'supportive' nonsense is accompanied by an advertisement. Triple annoyance points if one decides to send links on the topic to the person who needs to be improved.)

The twelfth commandment can use reinstatement as well: what is personal is private. My own good taste prevents my even giving examples, but suffice it to say that, for example, details of medical examinations are not for general discussion, and specifics of romantic encounters should not be known to anyone who was not present.

Yes, I know I sound pedantic - but courtesy is a part of respect for others, therefore a nice way to develop a bit of practical charity. I believe I'll close with a true, amusing story to avoid sounding like a Victorian etiquette manual.

My taste in clothing, which I seldom can indulge but enjoy, is half-Paris, half-hippie. On one occasion, I was wearing a long batik dress and Celtic earrings. A blonde boy of 15 or so, clearly 'upper class trying to do punk' (his leather jacket was worth more than my car), called to me "Hey, baby! You just got back from Woodstock?"

Much as I was grateful to this young man for giving me the best laugh of the week a few moments later (...the image of my claustrophobic, hyper-clean, reserved self at Woodstock does verge on the hilarious), for the moment I was taken aback. This kid clearly was of stock which had not worried about shelter, food, or clothing for some generations (one generation separates me from tenant farmers), yet, peasant though I am, I had not been exposed to the idea that one would say, "Hey, baby!" to a lady who was more than thirty years older than oneself.

It's lucky he picked me, come to think of it. Nowadays, I suppose that saying 'hey, baby' to one of his own age would have led to feminist outrage.