Class unconscious

I’ve been reading a neat little book called Watching the English, by British anthropologist Kate Fox, whose mission is to describe and analyze English behaviour. The book was a gift from a good friend who gave it all up (“it” being life in Pierrefonds, working for Ikea) to move to the UK (albeit still working for Ikea).
Now, I don’t think this book is for everyone, least of all for people who for some reason don’t find it fascinating to discuss ad nauseam the British tendency to remember last week’s rain fondly. It is an interesting read in that it offers insight not only into the British codes of behaviour, but also the research methods of one team of anthropologists.
I personally am enjoying the book not least because there’s an entire section on class, which my English brother-outlaw insists is a non-issue in 21st century Britain.
Furthermore, according to this book, the fact that my house is messy and none of my furniture matches is, in fact, an indication that I am upper class, and has nothing to do with being disorganized, frantically busy, or hopeless.
I gleefully relayed this information to my mother – we’re upper class! We never have to apologize for the mess again.
“Ah well,” she said, “every once in a while you still have to wipe the shit off the side of the toilet bowl.”
Yes, we’re just oozing class.