Jan Leeming recently landed herself in a spot of hot water (well, a lukewarm saucer of the stuff really) when she dared to complain about noisy kids in an upmarket eaterie. At the time I rather admired her courage in speaking out. Maybe as a former newsreader she’s used to dishing out the difficult stuff.
But for all the social changes now sweeping through the country, complaining – at least in public – is still seen as rather un-British, isn’t it? Even when we do feel compelled to speak out, we usually begin with an apology. “I’m ever so sorry, but…”
I found myself thinking about Leeming’s lament this week, as I sipped my Pina Colada by a hotel pool in Florida. For the first hour, all was peace and tranquillity. Just the rustle of palm tree fronds above our heads. Then… SHRIEEEEK!!! SCREEEEAAAMMM!!! YOWWWLLL!!!
Four kiddies, aged from around seven to nine, had jumped into the shallow end and were emitting more decibels per voicebox than I would have believed humanly possible. They weren’t shouting or laughing or even yelping a bit as they splashed each other. This was full-on continuous high-pitched howling. Wordless wailing. Don’t get me wrong. I’ve brought up four children, three of them boys. I know how they get in pools when they’re that age.
But this… I’ve never heard anything like it. Off the scale. Tape it and play it to a hardened terrorist in their cell and they’d be singing like a canary after five minutes. Anything, just make it stop.
But did I or Richard complain? Of course not. We’re British. We just exchanged brief, annoyed glances. Even that, for a Brit abroad, is pushing it a bit. Americans are different. Soon a septuagenarian sunbather arose from his lounger, threw back his distinguished leonine head and approached the parents.
Polite, but implacably direct, he told them: “Your kids are making WAY too much noise. Quieten them down a little. I’m a father of four and I have six grandkids, and I have a pool back home in LA, so I get it with pools and kids. But THAT (he gestured toward the shrieks), THAT is completely outta line. You follow?”
They followed all right. Words were had by the side of the pool. The kids calmed down. They still splashed away merrily enough but the eardrum-perforating performance stopped.
Our senior saviour seemed to be single. So is Jan Leeming. They’re of an age and clearly kindred spirits. I wonder – should I put them in touch?
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