A very English mistake

The last 9 weeks of lockdown in London have been marked by an unprecedented (yes, used ironically) display of public emotion, not dissimilar to that described at the start of my HERD book (the tons of flowers mourning Brits placed in Kensington Palace gardens to “show their respects” on the untimely death of Princess Diana).

Every Thursday night, we’ve gathered on our doorsteps and in our gardens to applaud and bang pots to demonstrate our collective gratitude to health and social care workers, “Clap for Carers” as it is known. Very often these are some of the poorest paid in the country, undervalued by government and public alike but now,….they’re heroes.

In our street, the ritual has escalated week by week to bring in trumpets, trombones, sleigh bells and tambourines (mine) as well as kitchen implements of all sorts. To be honest, it’s the most social we’ve been with each other since I moved in 15 years ago – funny how it takes a global pandemic to overcome English diffidence.

And it seems that we regard it as ours.

An English thing.

A British thing.

Something that exemplifies our national character, our virtues and our big hearts.

But like so much about our culture, it’s entirely borrowed.

Not only was it championed initially by the Dutch born Annemarie Plas but it is entirely borrowed from abroad.

It started in Wuhan (YES, the city in which the virus was first spotted), spread almost as quickly as the virus to Italy, Spain, Berlin, Turkey and France.

But now it’s British.

Apparently.

Because…Copy Copy Copy (and then forget where you copied it from)

How very British.

As British as Fish and Chips. Or Lager beer. Or Christmas Trees. Or the plants in our parks and gardens. Or apples. Or tulips.

[for a linguistic take on this kind of adoption, see my essay in Creative SuperPowers]