CommonFreddy Woo writes, "My wife thinks calling the front room a lounge is common. Worse, a friend of hers recently admonished her daughter for calling a toilet, a toilet. Lavatory darling. It's lavatory."
My own mother refused to let me use the word 'oblong' instead of 'rectangle'. Which is just odd, to be honest.
What stuff do you think is common?
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chthonic, Thu 16 Oct 2008, 16:06)
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Pure bloodlinesFirst off, this is a 100% true story. Names have not been changed to protect the guilty.
A few years ago, missus w4 decided to take a live-in job for a rich lady in Oxfordshire. My wife was charged with keeping the house tidy and watering the immense garden on the gardener’s day off. We were given our own two bed flat, furnished, which was located on the property.
Things went downhill very quickly. The Lady of the house was not content with the way missus w4 was placing the throw pillows on the beds – they were to be arranged just so. The Lady was disappointed my wife was unaware of how to make a batter from scratch. The lady wanted all bedding in the eight bedroom mansion to be changed and ironed perfectly every day, the master of the house’s shoes to be polished to a military shine, and the kitchen towels to be arranged by colour and size.
I was curious as to what these uber-rich people did, so I looked them up. They were of the Baring family, one of the richest, most posh families in England. The Lady of the house, Lavinia Gweneth Baring, was an extra lady-in-waiting for HRH Princess Diana.
And, curiously, Miss Baring, not wanting to spoil the bloodline, did something very curious and decidedly common.
She married her cousin, Vivian John Baring.
Honestly, look it up. She’s in that posh name register thingy, www.thepeerage.com.
My wife doesn’t put up with a lot of bullshit, but she did for this Lady. But not for long. After a week, my missus was really angry at the way the Lady behaved, so she left, and went back to Brighton. I went back to the Baring’s flat to get our stuff, and as I was about to drive away, the Lady appeared. She handed my wife’s last pay packet, with a small note detailing the deduction of £20 for electricity consumed at the flat. The cheap bitch.
We had been there a week, so I called her on it. She got very stroppy. All I could say was “whatever, lady, at least I didn’t marry my cousin. Inbred.” And I sped off, never to speak to the most common posh woman I’d even met.
(, Sat 18 Oct 2008, 19:56, Reply)
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