Let the Posh Times Roll

Posted by Ellie O'Mahoney at 12:44 on 26 Jun 2009

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Before Sam and I were set up by a mutual friend, Jenny, I asked her what he was like: ‘Really lovely, funny, bright blah de blah, buuuuuttttt,’ she paused and fired me a serious look, ‘You might think he’s too posh.’

Now, it’s not like I’m Ellie from the Block, but… my Irish grandpa ran a demolition business, my granny was a cleaner and my cousins wear thick gold chains. I’m not English aristocracy.

And Jenny was right, Sam IS posh. Public school, swimming pool and tennis courts in the back yard, skiing holidays viewed as a Basic Human Right. (He used those exact words when he lost his job and I suggested that might be a reason not to hit the slopes this year).

But, he’s also all those other things too – funny, bright, thoughtful – and well, actually, much nicer than the less posh boys I’d tended to go out with. So, I’ve been undergoing a gradual reworking of my ‘posh people are loud and a bit stupid and swimming pools and tennis courts are wasted on them’ attitude (yeah, I know, really grown up).

Living with his dad has only served to further break down my grotesque class prejudice. Because if Sam’s posh, his dad is the Duke of Edinburgh and frankly, when we were first introduced, I wondered how we’d ever find anything to talk about. He has friends with triple-barrelled names. He carries a fresh cotton handkerchief (embroidered with his initials) in his top pocket AND he’s married to a woman who organises charity lunches for larks. But, well, I kind of love him.

When he sits on the sofa in his Cordings smoking jacket to watch Newsnight, I plonk myself next to him in my White Company dressing gown and while he’s essentially a Conservative and I’m a jittery old Liberal, we seem to find a middle ground. I listen to him shouting at the television and sometimes find myself shouting at the same things. I think he sees me as a fifth child – the one who hasn’t yet bored of his rants. I see him as my surrogate ‘London’ Dad – my real one being 250 miles away in Cornwall.

He admitted the other night that age is making him more tolerant – and with me developing an unhealthy addiction for the Daily Mail website, it seems we’re both getting more out of this flat share than we’d expected. Before you know it, I'll be donning a twin set and pearls to work and hosting bridge parties for fun. 

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