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There’s a card on our dining table that says, in giant letters, “GOOD LUCK”. I laughed when Jon brought it home. It was signed by all his work colleagues. They gave it to him before he took his accountancy training exam.
A few months ago, I received a text from a Scottish friend, saying, “Sorry I’m so late with your wedding card – I’m posting it with your ‘Welcome to Your New Flat’ card.” She’d been on time with the “Congratulations on Your Engagement” card, so I forgave her.
Engagements and weddings are perfectly legitimate reasons for which to send cards, and I’ve experienced some big life changes lately, but it seems that British people buy each other cards for every occasion, making even usually non-cardworthy events cardworthy. My husband even gets Christmas and birthday cards from his bank.
What motivates such a well-wishing frenzy? Is it just a matter of simple enjoyment? Coming from a cultural background of last-minute sprints to the card aisle, however, I suspect there’s more to it. Maybe it’s a fear of being socially left behind. Perhaps some Brits secretly dread being labelled impolite for not giving their neighbour a “Welcome Home from Holiday” card. A typical British nightmare might depict Richard and Jane sifting through the mountain of post – “Hmm, here’s one from George and Carol, ‘Hope you had a lovely time’, and one from Anne… but I don’t see one from the Williamses next door…” followed by a low murmur of tut-tuts. I’m just guessing really, I wouldn’t know; I only have American nightmares, like moving to a country where McDonalds has replaced its hot fudge sundaes with toffee.
We Americans only send each other cards for the most popular events, and I know at times that we can buy cards grudgingly – “It’s her birthday again? Didn’t she just have one?” How many times have I seen people in Wal-Mart’s card aisles the day before some holiday, desperate, trying to find one not too twee, not too brainless, funny enough to solicit a smile but which won’t offend any relatives? I admit I’ve roamed those picked-over card aisles too. The plan-ahead types have already taken all the good ones.
I like cards, and I see the British card obsession as a positive cultural aspect. The typical card and its dashed note, scribbled signature and an X or two – three if you’re particularly chummy – rarely says as much as the actual act of giving it. Card recipients read “Glad You Got Your Bicycle Fixed”, but what they hear is, “You’re in my thoughts, you’re cared about”.
The problem is, I don’t have British well-wishing skills. A friend experiences something randomly fortunate, and I’ll admit my immediate thought, although it may resemble something like Ah, I’m happy for her, is never I should get her a card. In cases of popular holidays or birthdays, I wish I was more proactive about giving cards. But does the fact that I’m okay with not getting our friends a “Congratulations on Your New Pet” card mean I’m missing a vital part of what it means to be British?
In any case, I’m waiting for Jon to bring home a “Well Done” card from his colleagues – to follow up, of course, on how he did on his accountancy exam. I’ll put it next to “Good Luck” and “Welcome Home from Holiday”.
Shannon Evans
Shannon Evans, originally from Florida, moved to London in December 2011. Her idea of a perfect Friday evening involves a book and a cup of tea, and her favourite book of all time is Till We Have Faces by C.S. Lewis.
