The British, you see, are always happy when they ought to be - when the sun is shining and thy have a drink in their hands and that sort of thing - but they are also very good at remaining happy when others would falter. If, for instance, they are walking in the countryside and it start to rain, they pull on their waterproofs and accept that that's just the way it sometimes is. Living in a British climate teaches patience and stoicism. I admire that.
But what really sets the British apart is that when things go very wrong and they have a legitimate reason to bitch deeply, bitterly and at length, that is when they are the happiest of all. A Briton standing in a minefield with a leg blown off who can say, "I told you this would happen," is actually a happy man. I quite like that in a people. p. 380