The British are coming

Almost directly opposite where I live there’s a “Commercial Centre” with names like “Clean House” (a cleaning service), “Jump and Slide” (a gym for kids) and “Christine’s Clothing” (a clothing shop, nothing quite like stating the obvious).  Friday means happy hour at the Duke of Wellington pub, watering hole of the Brits here and also at the Greedy Goose which tends to be more Irish orientated. Where am I? Surprise – West Beirut. It makes a bit of a change from the al-Maroush and al-Dar restaurants, flanked by Halal shops in the Edgware Road. In all fairness, I nod thanks to our American cousins, who with Hollywood and the internet, are also in there pushing the English language, and I have to smile at the “Duke of Wellington”, named after the hero of Waterloo, and this a francophone country.

But things go deeper than just the name of the shops and bars. Jaguar is, and has been for years, a favourite mark here, jostling with BMW, Mercedes and Chevrolet, so the imminent launch of Jaguar’s “F” series is eagerly awaited. British Airways have bought back the London-Beirut route from Lufthansa and earlier this year upped the number of flights. Marks and Spencer are opening in Downtown Beirut next month, with a fashion show to launch it (the first I've been to). Tescos are back in here via a local supermarket chain – does “good food tastes better at Spinneys” sound familiar? McVities’ Hobnobs, Walkers’ shortbread, Whiskeys galore and smoked salmon are part of the Scottish contingent. Oh, and yesterday I listened to Virgin radio (just started up) while driving (in my Swindon made Honda) to Beirut’s most famous Hotel, the Phoenicia, (part of the Intercontinental Hotels PLC chain) to have lunch with a friend (a senior executive at HSBC). I could go on, but I won’t, so apologies to any brand that feels passed over, but lists get boring in the end and the point is made, I think.

Why is this? I’m not an economist and this is not intended as a research paper, but let me just speculate a bit. Most of my recent ancestors worked in those industries spawned by the industrial evolution; a steel-maker, two cutlers and a shipbuilder have passed their genes to me, but not the industries. Most have headed to the Far East (the industries, not my ancestors), painful losses that have left a legacy, though, of Brits finding what they’re good at, doing it, selling it then shipping it off by sea. The Lebanese have been great traders, and that means buying good stuff and selling it on, Beirut wasn’t one of the Silk Road’s great ports simply as an accident of geography. So, there is a natural symbiosis, a set of points of contact, albeit at a distance. Add to that the catalysts of language, noted above, and the five year long stagnation in Europe making extending markets essential and I think we have some if by no means all of the reasons for the increase in British brands here.

 

I have a long running duel going on with some Lebanese friends about British cuisine with good natured banter as the weapon of choice. Try as I might to persuade them of the rich delight of venison stew (“oh no, you eat Bambi”), that wonderful combination of zest and fruit and pastry called Bakewell tart, the savoury luxury of beef Wellington (“that’s French”; with a name like that – yeah right), the angelic simplicity of Yorkshire pudding and that meaty winter warmer, Lancashire hot-pot, all I get back are comments about fish ‘n’ chips. But who knows, Pontefract cakes may be next on the list; come to think of it, Tescos might be shipping them already.