Vanishing innocence

Is there such a thing as an innocent childhood nowadays? Or is it just a relic of the past that no longer exists?

I was an innocent child for most of my childhood. My parents always tried to shield me from the horrors of the outside world. And then as a teenager my boarding school also hid the outside world from me.

It was only when I started work as a journalist that I was rapidly exposed to the outside world and its atrocities - homelessness, poverty, crime, war and everything else. I was profoundly shocked for a while.

It was normal when I was a child to preserve children's innocence, their cheerful outlook, and spare them from the sort of appalling things they weren't psychologically equipped to process.

But now, because of so many news outlets and so much social media, children are coming up against the outside world and all its barbarities at a very early age.

Is this a good thing or a bad thing? I would say it's a bad thing because young children who haven't yet cultivated the necessary cynicism or detachment or composure to take sickening horrors in their stride can find them extremely disturbing.

I'm sure this premature exposure to the outside world is partly what's causing the epidemic of mental distress among young people. But how to put the genie back in the bottle?

Cancelled!

Good grief. Cancel culture comes to Tesco.

While Jenny was at the checkout of our local Tesco supermarket, waiting to have her shopping totted up, she overheard a woman ahead of her voicing her opinions on immigration.

The woman was being very anti-immigrant, so Jenny was prompted to voice a more pro-immigrant opinion.

At this, the cashier refused to deal with Jenny's shopping and said she would have to be attended to by another cashier - which she was.

But what are things coming to if a supermarket cashier can refuse to deal with you because she doesn't like your opinions?

I've never seen that before, and I wonder if Tesco staff are actually allowed to refuse service to a customer, or whether the cashier was acting improperly.

Jenny has emailed Tesco's chief executive, Ken Murphy, to complain. His reply will be interesting.

Update (November 8) Tesco has apologised for the cashier's behaviour and says "This member of staff has been spoken to about her actions and this kind of interaction will not happen again". Result!

The lap of luxury

How would you define luxury? Is it something only available to a few people, or something that costs a fortune, or just something you want rather than something you need?

My personal definition of luxury is none of those. It's something that lifts me out of my everyday existence and makes me feel on top of the world.

Some of my personal luxuries are:

• Eating out. Hugely extravagant but a lovely occasional treat.
• Extra-delicious food. In particular bread, cake, desserts, chocolate.
• A trip to the theatre. Only rarely given such crazy prices!
• My weekly chat with Jenny in the local coffee shop.
• Books. I love being totally engrossed in a really good book.
• A beautiful piece of furniture that cost a lot but I can enjoy it for years.
• Ditto a beautiful painting.
• Lazing in the garden on a hot, sunny day. Not that frequent in Belfast!
• Holidays, especially in places I've never been to before.
• A long hot shower. Or a long hot bath.

I suppose these could all be summed up under the heading of pampering. It's all very relative though. To someone really hard up, getting a taxi, having a hairdo or buying a new duvet might be the height of luxury, while to someone hugely rich, to get any sense of luxury they'd have to buy a new yacht or a £10,000 watch.

Coffee blunder

I love stories about officialdom gone mad, and this is a splendid example.

Ms Burcu Yesilyurt was fined £150 by Richmond Council, London, for pouring coffee down a drain before getting on a bus. She was told she had broken the Environmental Protection Act 1990, which makes it an offence to dispose of waste in a way likely to pollute land or water.

Apart from the fact that she was totally unaware of this obscure law, probably like the vast majority of us, she couldn't see any obvious harm in pouring a small amount of undrunk coffee down a drain.

We don't get fined if we pour coffee (or any other polluted liquid) down our kitchen sink. So why is it an offence to pour it down an outside drain?

In any case there must be many people, and companies, causing serious large-scale pollution that really does merit a fine - a huge fine. Is Richmond Council pursuing them with the same diligence? I doubt it.

The council quickly responded to the ensuing uproar and rescinded the fine. But why was she fined in the first place? Couldn't the council officials simply have pointed out the law she was breaking and warned her not to do the same thing again?

Pic: Burcu Yesilyurt

Under pressure

School sports days used to be very innocent affairs, known for such harmless activities as egg and spoon races and three-legged races.

But that's all changing now, it seems. Parents are shouting abuse at sports teachers and putting pressure on children to excel. It's got so bad that parents have been banned from attending sports events at a number of South London primary schools due to "concerning behaviours".

Sports days are meant to be fun, not competitive occasions on which children have to be pushed harder and harder.

The sports days I attended at school were the innocent events you would expect. Yes, the egg and spoon race and the three-legged race and the sack race. There was a friendly and good-natured atmosphere and no hint of competitive striving.

I wouldn't have liked being pressured to outdo the other boys. I was never a competitive person so I would have hated it. I would have invented some clever excuse to opt out.

Exceedingly odd

Like most people I've had plenty of odd experiences in my life. To list a few:

Being on a tube train going through Kings Cross station, London, in 1987 minutes before the station was engulfed in a massive fire.

My first day at work. In 1965 smoking in offices was normal and I virtually suffocated from the thick fug of tobacco smoke. Alarmingly, I soon got used to it.

A very informal interview for the Guardian in 1970. It took place in the local greasy spoon over bacon sandwiches*. I didn't get the job.

Having food poisoning on a flight to Australia and finding the woman beside me also had food poisoning. So we were able to pinpoint the source - we had both had an egg sandwich at Costa, Heathrow.

Losing my sense of smell. No idea when that first happened, but it was well before covid so that wasn't the cause.

Being with a rather drunk girl friend (not Jenny) when she lost control of the car and drove into a field. Luckily neither of us was injured.

I could go on but I won't.

* I didn't become a vegetarian until 1975

Hung up on celebs

I'm always intrigued by those people who get totally hung up on celebrities - following their every move, absorbing every little detail about their lives, copying their tastes and preferences, lavishing them with constant praise and adulation.

Personally I might have a high opinion of a singer or novelist or artist, but I don't worship the ground they tread on. I see them as another human being, talented in some ways but probably deeply flawed in other ways.

There's a general tendency to idealise celebrities and put them on a pedestal as if they're somehow far superior to the rest of us.

Even when the celebrity is dead, the worship goes on. There are hundreds of people who dress like Elvis and perform like Elvis. Why oh why?

As for those people deluded enough to think they have a romantic relationship with the celebrity and badger them non-stop with love letters, I feel for the person who's on the receiving end of it all.

Meanwhile Taylor Swift mania has passed me by. What's all the fuss about?

Looking forward

One of the things that makes life worth living is having something to look forward to.

In my case:

• My monthly book group
• My weekly class on Early Victorian Britain
• Waking up next to Jenny
• The leaves changing colour as they fall
• Art exhibitions
• Well-written and captivating novels
• Playing CDs
• Chocolate
• The garden coming alive in the spring
• Scrabble

And plenty of other things I can't recall off the top of my head.

I can't imagine how miserable you must be if you have little to look forward to and you're just aimlessly dragging out the days.

My days go so fast I'm astonished to find that another month or another year have somehow sped by.

All those things I'm looking forward to are really eating up the calendar.

Early waking

I gave up on the idea of regular sleeping patterns long ago. They might be regular if you're a child but once you're an adult it's a different story.

The reality is that my body wakes me up any time it feels like it between 4 am and 7 am. I used to fuss and fret about this physical anarchy and wonder why I couldn't control my own body.

Now I've given up trying to fix my sleeping patterns and I just go with the flow. If I wake at 4 am, no problem, I simply make a cup of tea and read for a while.

I never take sleeping pills. They don't work and just make me feel weird.

Believe it or not, I can have a completely coherent conversation with Jenny while I'm asleep, and not remember a word of it the next day.

Going to sleep on the other hand couldn't be easier. I nod off in about ten minutes and that's that - unless I'm away from home somewhere, in which case falling asleep will probably take longer.

Once I'm asleep I sleep pretty soundly. There are no children to wake me, no pets to wake me, little background noise of any sort.

But I never sleep on planes. There's too much going on around me for me to settle down sufficiently.

I used to find it easy to get out of bed in the morning, but that's not so any more. Quite often I don't want to get up at all, I just want to stay in my warm, cosy bed for as long as possible.

Or better still, hibernate until the spring.

Over the top

People do make mountains out of molehills, don't they (and that includes me, I can be just as bad, given one of my many hobby horses)?

A few months ago I was very worked up about bi-lingual road signs. What was the point, I asked, when only a small minority of the NI public speak Irish and the daily language usually spoken is English.

Now I'm much more sanguine on the issue. So what if road signs are single or dual language? What harm are they doing to anybody? There are more important issues to get worked up about.

Likewise I used to get very agitated about all the union jacks flown on lamp posts and outside houses. But hang on, all they're doing is marking out territory and declaring patriotism. Flags can't be violent or anti-social (though their owners might be).

So now I'm no longer bothered by them, they're just part of the scenery.

But people do get unnecessarily steamed up about all sorts of issues - traffic jams, internet glitches, bad table manners, someone sniffing, having to queue, rude shop assistants, to name but a few.

People don't just say, that's annoying. They explode with anger and impatience as if something utterly appalling has occurred. Why oh why? We all need to be more philosophical about life's minor irritations.

Clutter, what clutter?

When I think of decluttering, I conclude that we don't really have much clutter, most things in the house are things we need and are in regular use. But is that really true?

It's startling to recall that when I lived in bedsits from 1973 to 1981 I had virtually no possessions. I simply had no room for unnecessary stuff.

Now I have many times the number of possessions I had then. So if I could survive okay in my bedsits how come I need so many belongings now?

We have many things that are purely decorative, like ornaments and paintings. We have around 1000 books. We have six tables, twelve chairs and a sofa. We have a piano. We have several CD players.

In my bedsits I had a bed and a chair and that was it. Compared with that spartan arrangement, our present set-up seems totally excessive, even though 90 per cent of our possessions are regularly used (apart from all the books sitting on shelves gathering dust).

When I lived in my bedsits, I never felt deprived of anything, I was perfectly happy with my small space and my one or two bits and pieces. Now of course it seems like an extraordinary hardship I must have reluctantly endured.

No, we don't have any clutter, just what you might call household items.

Tell me more

I've said before that I don't like the uncertainty about my future. I want to know what's coming down the line so I can prepare for it.

I know a lot of people (such as Jenny) like that uncertainty about the future and don't want to know about it in advance. They want to be constantly surprised by events, they find that exciting rather than frustrating.

But I want to know what's in store. I have lots of unanswered questions. How long will I live? How much money will I need? How healthy will I be? Who will die first, me or Jenny? What shape will the public services be in? What sort of government will we have?

I would feel a lot more secure and confident if I knew what's lined up for me. I could plan my life a bit better, allow for disasters or triumphs, create a smoother path for myself. I wouldn't be suddenly overwhelmed by some unexpected catastrophe and be left floundering.

It's curious that I'm so bothered by uncertainty this late in life, when my future is relatively short. When I was young and my future stretched ahead of me for endless decades, the much greater uncertainty didn't faze me at all. I just sailed along blithely, unheeding of what the next day would bring.

For me, this walking into the unknown is quite disconcerting. It makes the rest of my life too nebulous, too hazy.

But it feels right

One of the major topics these days is polarisation, the way people take up sharply opposed views and simply won't contemplate changing them.

The one big thing that drives polarisation is surely the big increase in self-righteousness, the conviction that a person's beliefs and attitudes are the only correct ones and other people's beliefs and attitudes are obviously wrong.

I see this all the time in relation to immigration, transgender, vaccinations, welfare benefits and all sorts of political and social issues.

People are shedding the customary idea that differences of opinion should be resolved through intelligent debate and fact-finding, and are taking up opinions because they "feel right" or it's what their friends think or it's what someone said on the telly.

But what can be done to restore rational debate and open-mindedness? I'm not sure anything can be done, self-righteousness is now so prevalent and common sense so often absent. Once a bandwagon starts rolling and a dubious opinion gets wide approval it's hard to stop it.

What can you do when someone is adamant that you can change sex, or immigrants are all criminals and sex-offenders, or vaccinations are killing thousands of people, or workshy layabouts are sponging off welfare benefits?

It's an uphill task to convince them otherwise.

Not grumpy

Many years ago I said that I refused to conform to the grumpy old man stereotype and was going to stay optimistic and philosophical about whatever life threw at me.

I listed all the bad habits I wouldn't adopt. I think most of them still apply. Not sure about not believing everything was better in the old days. With the British economy on the skids and world war three in the offing things look pretty grim right now. Anyhow this was the list:

I refuse to moan and groan.
I refuse to become a grumpy old man.
I refuse to let the world's problems get me down.
I refuse to make mountains out of molehills.
I refuse to turn petty irritations into causes célèbres.
I refuse to complain about my bodily deficiencies.
I refuse to denigrate other people's lives.
I refuse to tell other people what to do.*
I refuse to rant and rave.
I refuse to demonise young people.
I refuse to be cynical.
I refuse to be paranoid.
I refuse to see the worst in people.
I refuse to be nostalgic.
I refuse to believe everything was better in the old days.
I refuse to think that I know best.
I refuse to think life's conspiring against me.
I refuse to be offended by bad manners.
I refuse to be offended.
I refuse to over-react.

I don't want to be one of those dour-faced old geezers who has nothing good to say about anything and thinks the whole world is going to hell in a handcart. There are still plenty of things to appreciate or even celebrate. Just keep on trucking!

*except politicians and bankers obviously

Keeping watch

I still possess a wrist watch, even though the trend is to check the time on your mobile. I like being able to check the time instantly, at a quick glance, rather than turning my phone on. Not that I use my watch very often, only if I'm attending some function or other or I'm on holiday.

Also when you're in company it's easier to take a furtive look at your watch than seem rude by pulling out your mobile phone.

I've only had two wrist watches in my entire life. My father bought me my first one in the sixties; I think it cost about seven guineas from Harrods. It finally stopped working in the noughties, after around 40 years. Not bad, huh?

Then I bought my second watch, which has been working for about 20 years. I expect it'll see me out.

Surprisingly enough, I've never done anything to ruin my watches. I've never dropped them into the bath water or into a bowl of soup. Of course having said that I'll probably drop my watch into a bowl of soup tomorrow. Oh, and I've never left my watch anywhere.

I didn't know that to begin with wrist watches were almost exclusively worn by women, while men used pocket watches until the early 20th century. Wrist watches were first worn by military men towards the end of the 19th century, to synchronise manoeuvres during war.

Just out of curiosity, do any of my blog friends still own a wrist watch?

Put a sock in it

There are proposals in England for new laws to stop people playing music and videos out loud on their phones on public transport.

Many people find such behaviour intrusive and provocative when they're hoping for a few minutes' peace and quiet on their way to work or wherever.

In most cases people are either nervous about confronting the noisy person or if they do they're likely to get a mouthful of abuse and told to fuck off.

Personally I'm not much bothered by noisy individuals but I can see that others might be thoroughly exasperated by such inconsiderate actions.

At least they're not having intensely personal conversations that are better aired in some more private location. I mean, do you really want the whole carriage to know that your wife is divorcing you or you've just been sacked? Suddenly a bit of restraint takes over.

Other people's quirky behaviour on buses and trains isn't a big issue for me - unless they're stripping off or puking or screaming. I'm more concerned that they go where I want them to go, they're frequent, they come at the advertised time, and there are seats available.

The days when it was customary for train carriages to be in stony silence as the passengers scrutinised their copy of the Times are long gone. Nowadays you expect a fair amount of background noise on your journey.

No more cars?

Every now and then some daft politician or politico will declare that we should all give up our cars to "protect the environ-ment" or "get more exercise" or whatever. It doesn't seem to occur to them that for a lot of people cars are absolutely essential.

We don't use our car very often -  mainly for the weekly supermarket shop - but there are many things a car is vital for, especially if you're in a family.

If public transport is poor or non-existent, if you need to move something heavy and bulky, if you're taking your kids to school or to out-of-school activities, if you're visiting your parents or relatives in some out-of-the-way location, if you're visiting someone in hospital, and for all sorts of other awkward journeys, how would you get by without a car?

Taxis are okay for short journeys, but too dear for long journeys. You could cadge lifts but you can't do that too often.

We've used our car to take things to the recycling centre, to get to beauty spots, to bring home large purchases like furniture and plants, to take visitors for an outing or to the airport, to give people lifts in bad weather, to look at property for sale, and numerous other purposes.

It could be of course that the anti-car politicians don't seriously want us all to give up our cars. They're just looking for cheap headlines to keep them in the public eye. But most people will simply snort with disbelief and ask what planet they're living on.

Rush to judgment

I'm always a bit sceptical of court case verdicts. They're generally treated as hard fact, although in reality they're merely the considered opinion of a judge or jury.

The media in particular treat all verdicts as gospel, and deliver screaming headlines on the basis of judgments that may or may not be the ultimate truth.

Many many people who have been found guilty by a court turn out to be innocent years later, often after they've been in prison for lengthy periods.

I'm thinking right now of Lucy Letby, the nurse who was convicted of the murder of seven infants and the attempted murder of seven others. She was sentenced to life imprisonment, but many commentators have questioned the verdict and want a retrial on the basis of evidence that wasn't produced at the court. So was she guilty or has this been a miscarriage of justice? The arguments continue.

It seems to me that at the end of the day the soundness of the verdict isn't a question of  whether it was reached by a judge or a jury. The crucial factor is surely the strength of the evidence presented by each side. If the prosecution evidence is strongest, they win. Ditto the defence evidence.

I've been on a jury twice, and it seemed very clear to me that it's the strength of the evidence that counts. My first case was a black guy accused of assaulting a police officer. We started off thinking he was innocent but after a long deliberation decided he was guilty. Of course I've no idea if he was actually guilty or not. Only he knows the answer to that.

The fact is that supposedly solid "final" verdicts are regularly overturned as "unsafe".

To pee or not to pee

You'd think there would be plenty of public toilets in Belfast city centre. With so many people coming and going, including an increasing number of tourists, that seems like an obvious thing to offer.

In fact you'd be hard-pressed to find a public toilet anywhere in the city centre. If I need a toilet, I know of just one council-provided one - in the city hall. Otherwise my only option is commercial premises - like Marks and Spencer or a coffee shop. Or maybe a hotel.

There are lots of people with medical issues that call for rapid access to a toilet, but they must have kittens trying to find one.

Lots of councils have closed their public toilets to save money - and maybe because they're often used for drug-dealing.

Raymond Martin, Director of the British Toilet Association (yes, really) is trying to reverse this trend and persuade councils to reopen toilets they've closed, or even open new ones. I'm not sure he'll get very far in the current economic climate, but he's plugging away nonetheless.

He's also touring the country inspecting public toilets and giving them a star rating. The best ones (smart, hygienic, accessible etc) get five stars, the worst one star (if they're lucky).

With thousands of people pouring into Belfast from cruise ships, I would have thought there's an urgent need for more public toilets, but clearly Belfast Council is unconvinced.

Oops daisy

Some people not only hate to make mistakes, but hate other people to know they've made mistakes. They'll do anything to cover up their cock-ups, even if that involves fingering innocent people.

Politicians and public bodies do it all the time of course, but so do many ordinary individuals who hate to be caught out in any way.

I left my last job after my boss accused me of releasing confidential documents to a civil servant. I pointed out that the documents were already freely available on our website, but he wouldn't listen. He sent me a three-page email accusing me of not doing my job properly, not obeying instructions and so on.

If only he could have admitted I was right and he was wrong, there wouldn't have been any problem. But no, he had to insist I was the one who'd screwed up.

The famous neurosurgeon Henry Marsh admits that in his early days as a brain surgeon he was somewhat arrogant and self-satisfied and wouldn't admit he'd been at fault at all. It was only later on in his career that he admitted making mistakes or misjudgments, and his ex-patients appreciated his honesty.

My prostate operation apparently went very well, but if it hadn't and the surgeon had made some bad mistake, I would have expected him to be frank with me, and not cover up and pretend everything went fine (if he'd done so, I probably would have smelt a rat anyway).

What exactly is wrong with admitting mistakes? It's only by freely examining your mistakes that you learn lessons and become a better person. I'm happy to acknowledge my mistakes and whatever they might teach me.

Pic: Henry Marsh