how to be British

I made a list of twenty rules I associate with British life, from saying sorry when you’ve bumped into a door frame to offering tea to anyone who comes into your home. Some of them I love. Others I break quite happily, especially when they involve my toast getting soggy.

These are my observations as a Canadian living in Kent. When I talk about people being reserved, viewers from the north often tell me their experience is different. I’ve enjoyed my trips there, but I can only describe the habits I’ve encountered and the ones I’ve picked up myself.

Please leave me the empty train seat

I’d sold my car a long time before making this list and was relying on public transport to get around. I love the habit of avoiding eye contact and giving people space. To me, it often seems like people don’t want to bother one another, which is something I appreciate when I’m travelling.

The seating rule is particularly good. If there are plenty of empty pairs of seats, take one of those before sitting directly beside a stranger. Having someone choose the seat next to me in an almost empty carriage feels very different from sharing when the train is full. I like being left alone when there’s room for it.

That reserve also changes what I expect in a queue. When I go back to Canada, I’m sometimes surprised by a stranger telling me about their personal life while we’re waiting for something. Here in Kent, I find people less likely to open up straight away. I don’t read that as snootiness. I think it’s often politeness and not wanting to make someone uncomfortable.

All right doesn’t require a full report

The greeting still feels strange to me. In Canada, if someone asks whether I’m all right, I take it as a question about my wellbeing. Here, I find that all right can work more like a casual what’s up. It doesn’t necessarily call for an explanation of everything going on in my life.

It took me a while to get used to the meaning behind phrases like that, even though English is my first language. I find Canadians more upfront, whereas British people sometimes say something while meaning something else. Understanding the words doesn’t automatically mean I’ve understood what the person wants from the exchange.

The last biscuit has its own little exchange. On my list, you don’t grab it as soon as someone offers. You check whether anybody else wants it, decline once, and only take it after another offer if nobody else seems interested. It’s a lot of politeness for one biscuit, but that back and forth is exactly what I meant by these unwritten rules.

Tea, but only in my kind of weather

I’d only recently got into tea when I made the list in 2025, and I was excited by how much there still was to try. Coffee remained my morning drink, but I’d happily take Yorkshire tea with a little milk on a horrible winter day or when it was raining.

That weather restriction is mine. British people certainly don’t need a rainy day before having a cup. I like the idea of tea being the answer to everything, whether someone’s had a miserable journey home or something much worse has happened. Offering it to visitors belongs on the list too, including the plumber or electrician who’s only there briefly.

My beans remain adjacent to my toast

Beans on toast is a perfectly legitimate meal as far as I’m concerned. However, I don’t enjoy soggy bread, and neither does my British partner. We butter the toast and put the beans beside it, then scoop them up as we eat. The toast stays properly toast-like, and I find that much more pleasant.

I have this fairly often on a busy day when I need something quick. We heat the beans on the hob, sometimes with a little chipotle chilli, and toast the bread. I know calling it beans beside toast upsets people, but that’s how I like eating it. I’m not claiming everyone else needs to change.

I reserve the right to leave quietly

The long goodbye was another rule I included. There’s the announcement that it’s time to go, the conversation while moving towards the door, then another conversation at the door. A proper goodbye can take about twenty minutes in the version I described.

Personally, I love leaving without that whole performance. I called it an Irish goodbye, and I would take that option whenever I could. If you’ve invited me somewhere, at some point you might simply notice I’m no longer there. I appreciate plenty of the habits I’ve found here, especially the space on public transport, but I’m quite happy to keep this one.

Watch my full list of twenty British rules.