What everyone is talking about this week: What is the right way to propose to someone?

Occasionally a news story will grow so all consuming that even a magazine such as ours has no choice but to acknowledge it. Taylor Swift, the American superstar who in some parts of the world has become more famous than Jesus, is now engaged to Travis Kelce, an American football player and a star of the Kansas City Chiefs.

The proposal took place in Travis's garden at home in Missouri, USA, underneath a pergola draped in foliage and surrounded by urns overflowing with... more flowers. It was very bucolic, very Country Life, so much so that we received a letter from a reader who reportedly left her granddaughters ‘agog’ after explaining how much work had gone into the backdrop.

You might be wondering why we have come to know so many details about a supposedly private ritual (the roses! the lilies! the delphiniums!). After all, Travis did not choose to do this in Venice, Italy, outside the Eiffel Tower in Paris, France, or at the Arrowhead Stadium where the Chiefs play their games. I wish I could tell you that our knowledge is due to Country Life's paranormal relationship with the natural world. In fact, the future Mr and Mrs Kelce are part of a growing cohort using hidden (read: ‘hidden’) cameras to document their engagement for an audience.

According to data compiled by global wedding planners The Knot, nearly one-quarter of proposers hired a photographer in 2023. Some will lament the corruption of a private moment into a public display of affection, to which others will point out that a wedding really is no different. From dinner parties to the office bathroom, fans of Taylor have sought to justify her stunt as an artistic statement. For the rest of us, the story has prompted debate about proposal etiquette.

What is the right way to ask for someone’s hand in marriage? In a bid to temper some of the wilder suggestions I’ve heard — and halt this conversation before it carries over into Christmas — allow me to answer. A proposal should be intimate, putting no more pressure than there already is on your partner to respond a certain way. If cameras are rolling or people are watching, this can be difficult. It should also be considerate; choose a time when you are both relaxed, comfortable and sober. If proposing to a woman, use a ring; if proposing to a man, a watch. Make sure it does not fall on either of your birthdays.

Finally, do not quote Taylor Swift.

The Bittern bites back

The Yellow Bittern, a notorious restaurant-cum-bookshop-cum-communist newsagents in north London, is back after closing for three weeks this summer. It’s been a while since chef-proprietor Hugh Corcoran got into an online spat, of which there were so many earlier this year they ended up serving as the restaurant’s main publicity engine.

Located at the bottom of Caledonian Road, The Yellow Bittern made instant headlines when it opened last October, not so much for its food (sausages, potatoes and broth) as for its antics. It only accepts cash, seats a grand total of 18 and is named after an 18th-century Irish poem about a bird that couldn’t crack the ice with its beak to get a drink. Hugh also got into trouble for claiming that his diners were stingy.

Yet more eyebrow-raising is Niklas Ekstedt’s variant (3–5, Great Scotland Yard). Known as the Flambadou Oyster, it is basted in molten beef fat using a red-hot cone, finished with a silky beurre-blanc sauce. If this sounds overwhelming, fret not. The London Oyster Championships, September 19 at Bentley’s Oyster Bar & Grill (11–15, Swallow Street), will decide for you which to order or avoid.

It felt briefly as if The Yellow Bittern had crashed and burnt, its reputation dwindling as more recent openings drew the chattering classes. The recess, however, has been good to it; Hugh returned to social media two weeks ago to announce it would be open for lunchtime on weekdays, then promptly went off grid again.

Reservations are taken only over the phone and the walls dressed in buttery shades and portraits of Lenin. Some call it pretentious; others, the logical end-point of Champagne socialism. Yet its hold on the intelligentsia shows no sign of waning. A table for one, please.