The queue is a wonderful (sarcasm font) English phenomenon.
The English will queue patiently forever.
The English think they invented the queue and that they are so good at queuing.
Here is what I think about queuing.
I despise queuing.
I am so ridiculously impatient in some queues.
I think sometimes I might litruhlee explode at the people and the procedure.
It's like a maddening movie scene that replays every time I am in a queue.
The English people's belief that they queue well is a crock.
There is a process that I must explain.
Till Queues and "Desk" Queues
Whilst waiting in a queue, firstly, one must hold their place. If there is a gap, or any sort of dubiousness about the actuality of the existence of a queue, or if the queue is like in the middle of an open space and not well-signed, there will inevitably be a queue jumper. Queue jumpers may or truly may not realize there IS a queue however, they are always in an urgent rush or have a question that is ridiculously of the utmost importance especially if they are over the age of let's say, 50. It is an act that we who are standing in the queue recognize all to well. Do we as proper queuers actually point out that there is a queue? The answer to this question is 100% yes if I am in the queue, maybe 25% if it is something I am observing (or I am too far back in the queue) and left to the general English public in my town which is known for being more polite than polite (both a good and bad thing). 75% of the time they just moan inwardly or exchange looks with their fellow queuers, but only if they know one another, because one never makes eye contact with a stranger. I do often point out the rudeness of queue jumping to the queue jumper because well, I am a foreigner and I can do that and I don't care if it's rude to point out a rudeness (much to my husband's chagrin). What is the point of a queue if Mr Hurry doesn't respect it? I do tend to allow olde ladies slide because well, there is simply no way to argue with an olde lady. The offender inevitably looks at me in that flustered Hugh Grant way and then looks at all of the people looking at him, mumbles something partially apologetic and wanders off to apparently join the queue after we all have left. Yeah, I've got your number, Mr Hurry. I will say that 90% of the time the clerk answers the queue jumpers question or WAITS ON THEM without indicating there is a queue like they knew all along it actually was the jumper's turn and I am like, "HUH?!?! WTH!" in my head. Even the most clueless clerk knows who is next in line so there is no excuse.
I tend to avoid queues in the grocery store if there is more than one woman ahead of me without children. Women with children hurry. Women without children and especially older women are almost beyond description but I am going to try. Ladies at the till take f.o.r.e.v.e.r! It's like they have never used money in their lives. Never. And the number of "Oh!"'s and "Sorry"'s - gaaaaahhhh! They never have their money out, much less their wallets which they fish around in their bag to finally discover. O.M.G. And to top it all off, we pack our own groceries here. And no one multitasks meaning they wait to pay after they've finished bagging. And the cashier won't start waiting on the next person until the lady has put all of her things back into the chasm that is her bag which is a process in itself. Can you imagine my agony? When I approach the till, I unload, I get my card, pen, coupons, club card and reusable bags ready. I have learned to ALWAYS have a pen handy because I have stood in the queue waiting for someone to find a pen. When you are the only one NOT using a chip and pin card, believe me the grief is heard. When I have a pen at the ready, it is actually faster to sign then do the whole chip and pin procedure, that's if the cashier knows how to swipe the card. I have actually had to show a variety of people how to swipe a card (we can't self-swipe at most places). I read last month that the universal chip and pin system turned five years old which tells you how fast cashier turnover is - and how fast memory fades - if people can't remember how to swipe a card after five years. Actually, I am not sure if they ever did swipe cards in Britain at all because I have had cashiers pull out that dinosaur of a credit card imprint device where they slide it over your card and a paper slip. Seriously, dinosaur ages.
Bus queue
When I am waiting for the bus, I usually am on the High St and there is a shelter that has a sort of bench that is sort of comfortable to rest upon, but is angled and narrow I guess so people won't sleep on it. You can kind of sit/lean. Anyway, one approaches the shelter, goes to the end of the queue and waits. When the bus arrives, everyone files calmly and orderly and EVERYONE knows who is supposed to be in front of them and will pause to allow someone the chance to pick up their shopping bags in order to keep their spot in the queue. If you tell someone to go ahead of you, you have to pretty much convince them to do it. It is wonderful. And besides me most times, no one has to fish in their purse for money because they are all over 60 and get free bus transport. I do need to add that a guy tried to queue jump and an olde lady gave him such a stare-down that he left that stop and caught the bus at the stop around the corner - I kid you not.
Airport queue
Queuing makes me tense in the airport because unless I am totally misunderstanding the process, it is a competition. We tend to fly very cheap airlines such as Easyjet which do not assign seating. People who fly Easyjet have what I would call a vicious pack mentality. Everyone wants to defeat the leader and will fight to the death. Since no one has a seat assignment, everyone gets antsy and well, crazy. At first, we fed into this nonsense, but as seasoned travelers with older children, we tend to wait a bit because as long as we are close to our kids' seats, we are happy. And to be quite honest, even when we are at the middle or second half of the crowd, we still get seats altogether and have a spot for our baggage.
Once we were waiting to check bags (our one and only time I might add) with a line full of older folks (really, we were the youngest by far) because the desk hadn't opened to accept baggage yet. I turn around to talk to Evan and in a split second, they changed the baggage desk to the next one over and BAM! it was a melee. Did they shift orderly and maintain the same order? Heck no. All of these old British people with HUMONGOUS suitcases were almost jumping over us to get a better spot in the queue. Chaos. And yes, they were ALL British on a flight returning to Bristol or Birmingham.
Another time, in Rome, we were waiting for our gate to be announced after going through security. We were in a big room with a bunch of other people (all nationalities) and most were waiting for their flight to leave to go to Spain. Owen was playing with this electronic toy that walks across the floor off in a clear area sheltered by a row of seats where I was sitting. All of a sudden, a gate change is announced in Italian and a swarm of people from the orderly queue behind me start running across the room, jumping OVER the row of seats and ME and heading straight for Owen. It was like that scene in The Lion King where Simba is being chased by the wildebeests through the cavern. Owen's eyes got huge, he jumped up and ran away. I will add that these were not Britons (probably mostly Italians and Spanish) but that's what it's like.
My final bit of irony regarding the whole airport mentality is that in most cases, the passengers must be bussed to the airplane so being first in the queue means you wait the longest until the bus is full of people who have been in the queue behind you before you go to the plane to then have to fight to be the first one off of the bus (not guaranteed) and into the plane. People actually pay for special treatment (first in line) only to sit on the bus waiting for it to fill up. I find this highly amusing.
We have also flown airlines where our seats are assigned and this queue competition still exists. I don't get it.
We actually quickly visited here last Sunday but I returned today because I had forgotten my camera. Lodge Park was OK, fairly barren inside and highly reconstructed, but the story behind the property was of interest. Lodge Park was built for John 'Crump' Dutton, a wily Civil War politician renowned for his hunchback solely for the purpose of gambling and entertaining.
I think this is Crump.
The building was two stories high and was basically two large rooms, one on top of the other as well as an accessible flat rooftop grandstand and a kitchen in the basement. Why an accessible rooftop grandstand? Well, Lodge Park is the site of the only surviving deer course in the UK. A deer course? Is that a racecourse for deer? The answer is partially yes.
A deer course is a mile long swathe of land bordered by seven foot high walls where a deer is let loose to then be chased by a dog or two or three along the course. At the end, which was just about where the house was, there was a small water canal for the animals to jump over. The first dog to jump the canal wins. There was a second canal for the deer to jump over and escape the dogs and be recaptured. If bets accrued more that 20 pounds, a kill was expected and the dogs were allowed to kill the deer. Jolly good sporting fun. Although they made it seem that 20 pounds was a high stake and killing was inhumane, we assume a kill was expected more often than not since a permanent and huge slaughterhouse was located at the end of the course. I suspect venison was often served at Lodge Park.
There were no bedrooms or any type of retiring room at Lodge Park. It really was originally built as a human sized playhouse for gambling and partying. John "Crump" Dutton and his visitors would ride horseback or in carriages from the adjoining Sherborne Estate to the party house. Over the years, it had been lived in as a house by descendants, but money was squandered, the house fell into disrepair and inheritance taxes were astronomical so the house was bequeathed to the NT in 1983. The grounds are beautiful and there are many walking paths around Lodge Park and the adjoining Sherborne Estate (which is across the A40 from the entrance to Lodge Park in case you were wondering).
I also went to the Sherborne Estate today
and the place is litralee massive! Humongous! Ginormous! It was sold in the 1960's to a developer who created posh apartments and I, for one, would love to live there. The Olde Hunchback of Sherborne really knew how to build and live in style. As an aside, when I was trying to find how Crump obtained all of his money, I came upon an article about Valentine Strong, a stonemason, who built Sherborne House and Lodge Park and subsequently fathered 10-11 children, five who became stonemasons and helped Christopher Wren's plans of St Paul's Cathedral in London come to life. Valentine Strong has an impressive tomb in the cemetery of Fairford Church of St Mary where I have visited on a few occasions. I never did find how Crump made his fortune, but he was one of the richest men in England in his time and dallied with Oliver Cromwell (he was engaged to a daughter) and kings alike.
Our small pond has had some busy amphibians in it.
