Many years ago, before shaving became necessary let alone a blog, Mummy told me not to sniff. I was brought up to believe that people who knew how to behave carried a handkerchief. Since then, despite regular failure to avoid touching my nose on the inside in public, I have always carried a large, clean handkerchief. Bit of a trademark.
I failed to pass on this education to either of my sons who have never, as far as I can recall or observe, carried handkerchiefs unless they have a cold and then they use paper ones.
I now learn that in Japan it is very rude to blow your nose in public but sniffing is fine. Junior (who lives in Japan and will be visited this year) has found hog heaven. How will I cope?
Yesterday in Harvey Nicholls, where we went for a visit to the Jimmy Choo museum, there were many Japanese. I rounded a corner whilst wiping my nose on a handkerchief and observed, for the first time in my life, the look of complete disgust on the face of someone who had been well bought up in a different culture.