My husband laughed at the washing up liquid recently. Not content with a bottle of Fairy, I'd picked up a bottle of Waitrose's Ginger and Lime washing up liquid. I didn't give this a second thought until my husband commented and I realised it's exactly what my middle-class mother would buy.It demonstrates a sort of faux middle-class thriftiness: buy the supermarket brand because it's cheaper but actually it's a supermarket not known for being the cheapest because you don't want to compromise on quality after all. And as for Ginger and Lime: well middle-class people like things quirkily fragranced.
There are some other tell-tale signs: my favourite snack is pimento stuffed olives. I don't usually eat crisps, but if I do they have to be some baked, pricey brand with some nice quirky middle-class flavour such as port and stilton. I'm a little bit fussy with wine too, I pretend to be thrifty by always buying something which has been reduced from £10 to £5 or £6 and I always have to read the label and nod knowingly as if I understand it all.
Waitrose Essential (their 'budget' range) tea bags are not good enough. I need to get their stronger, better quality range. In fact Marks & Spencer tea bags are better still, although loose tea will always have the edge. Last week I cooked oven baked beetroot risotto with beetroot I grew in the garden. That's so middle-class it puts my teeth on edge.
I like to think I'm classless. We gave the children classless names so people wouldn't be able to make an instant judgement on their background. I don't like judgements. I like to think we can all just rub along together without anyone thinking about backgrounds. But life isn't like that.
I can't help it because my upbringing was achingly middle class. My parents listened to Radio 3 and Radio 4, ITV was rarely allowed on the telly and the only time a tabloid newspaper found its way into the house was when my Dad bought The Mirror to read about Sarah Ferguson's Texan millionaire toe sucking scandal. We did middle-class pursuits such as playing the piano (and we have a piano in our house now) and Mum always cooked Delia Smith recipes because you 'could never go wrong with Delia'. With some recent Nigella flops I'm coming round to my Mum's thinking now.
The list goes on. Oh and books. It's important to have a house full of books apparently. 'Not many books in their house' was a comment sometimes made by my parents and that would be scathing judgement passed on the owner of that book sparse house. Our house now is full of books. So full we don't have enough space for them all. Not practical really.
I'm making my parents sounds like terrible snobs. They weren't really. Well, okay, ever so slightly they were. A sort of Basil Fawlty level of snobbishness. That came with the generation I think.
I have to acknowledge that I may be middle-class and like to buy strange flavoured washing up liquid from slightly upmarket supermarkets. But I'm open minded: I actually quite like Argos. My Mum refuses to ever set foot in there. Isn't it reassuring to see each generation becoming slightly more classless? Although this mum does not go to Iceland.
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