Why I feel really sorry for the super-rich

At some time or another most of us have thought that £1million or so would solve all our problems - so we still have our illusions.  However, it's obvious that money doesn't buy you contentment, because when you've got the money you still  have to skimp and save and it must be rather sad to find that out.

In London there is a development called One Hyde Park where the flats sell from about £3 million to £30 million, but only 9 of the 62 owners can afford to pay their Council Tax.

Not that it's exorbitant!  One case mentioned in Sundays' Observer cites £1375 per annum as the amount payable.  Mine, on a Band D 3-bedroom Edwardian semi in a back street of Croydon is £1459.93 and I manage to pay it.  Somebody should let them know that they don't have to pay it all at once, you can do it in 10 installments.  Of course my out-goings are lower - I don't have any bully-boy guards around the place, and the garage came with the house, not at £250,000 extra.

Though the Council does make some daft decisions, see yesterday's post, on the whole I am grateful to them for supplying schools, swimming pools, rubbish collection, libraries, parks and all the other things we take for granted and realize we all have to pay tax to cover. So I can hold my head high and don't have to hide in a tax haven when it comes to paying my whack.

Who wants to be a billionaire?  I don't!

How my local Council could save money

Today I have seen yet again the monster purple machine which propels a small round brush along the gutters being driven down our streets.  It does not do a good job.  For one thing I don't know if the driver can actually see if he is close to the pavement or not, and every time he comes to a parked car he has to go round it so that bit of gutter doesn't get a chance.  At a saving of what, £40,000, perhaps a lot more?, that same man could be effectively sweeping with a lowly broom.  He would have a healthier life and there wouldn't be fuel to pay for and the streets would be cleaner.  Who was the joker who thought up these daft machines, and who the gullible Council officials who got convinced by salesmen that they would be a good idea?  Dare I suggest this is an example of where women rather than men might make better decisions on such questions?

Pensions

We are living longer.  There's no doubt about this - plenty of centenarians about.  Well, then, we have to get our pensions at a later age, otherwise we'll be pensioners longer than we actually pay in and where will the money come from?  This is hard on the people already in the process, but there are plenty of hard facts to be faced since the country as a whole has been living beyond its income for a long time and it can't go on for ever.

Striking will only make the country poorer, and can't change the facts. 

Why do the people actually doing the work get fired first?

When an organisation has to economise, the first thing it seems to think about is firing staff, and not those at the top of the pole, they always pick on those at the bottom who are actually doing the work or producing the goods.  This is easier than looking into the various ways that money is being wasted, such as over-use of electricity or considering if certain functions in the administration actually need to be performed.  There might be whole departments that have outlived their usefulness.  But those in charge don't want to fire themselves or their pals.

Two friends of mine told me of their experiences yesterday, which seem to point up this problem - for problem it is.

One works for a Council.  His department is being reorganised and there will, in future, be 7 posts, currently employing 8 people.  They have all been invited to re-apply for their own jobs involved in different aspects of keeping the streets clean.  My friend attended an interview with his boss (£36,000), 2 other administrators, and 2 other people.  A panel of 5!  He was asked "What do you think you can bring to this job?" and he could only reply "I have been doing it, apparently satisfactorily, for 9 years".  All the "applicants" nervously await the decision.  More high-level discussions costing how much per hour?

The other applied for a job cooking for a fast food chain.  She was given a chair and table and some straws and cellotape and asked to construct a house out of them.  She protested,  "But I'm applying for a cooking job!" and was told she was being tested for manual dexterity.  It might seem from the outside that the psychologist who thought this up could be more dispensable than cooks in such an organisation.

How we treat older children

Some creatures are born able to cope from day 1,  even some mammals are very clever at birth.  Baby kangaroos find their way from the womb through all the fur up to the nipple in the pocket, which is a long and arduous journey for them, but we are rather slow in our development.  In India we read of children from 4 or 5 leading independent lives, but here it is generally considered that they need parenting  from the very moment of birth until age 16, or even until they are recognised to have come of age at 18.  However, a lot of them aren't getting it and join gangs to find something to belong to.  This isn't very good because the gangs teach them how to survive, but not exactly how to be good citizens or make the most of their own potential.

Parenting does not seem to be considered as a job any more.  But it is one that needs to be done.  Anne Robinson's programme, The Weakest Link, has, I am glad to discover, been moved to 2.15 in the afternoon, when few school-aged children would be watching it, from 5.15 when they were.  She has been heard to say to a full-time mother, "Couldn't you find a proper job?"  Stacking super-market shelves, in her estimation, is a much more worth-while occupation.  Also, she is endlessly rude to the competitors.  They are all volunteers and know what they are in for, so I don't feel particular sympathy for them, but it is objectionable to see somebody so rich and successful and considering herself a role-model being  gratuitously rude to other people.  This is a terrible example to children and needs, just as much as violent and sexy programmes to be scheduled when they are not watching.  It is even more insidious than they are because not fiction, but fact.  I don't think that all that violent fiction is particularly good either, for violence is considered the normal way to behave, but I suppose it has to be accepted because it is so much wanted by the adult audience.

It is often assumed that even if a parent stays at home until the children are ready for full-time school they not only could, but should return to work.  I find this perverse.  A kind grandparent or baby-sitter can look after a very small child quite satisfactorily, but when they come home from school with problems with relationships or needing help with homework it is surely a parent that they need, somebody involved with their whole development through life.

It is true that money has to be earned and I am not "picking on" present-day parents who have to deal with the difficult situation they are faced with and have to cope with it as best they can.  They cannot possibly put parenting ahead of their job.

But this blog is concerned with public policy for the future which could enable us to change our way of raising children, which, in many cases, just can't be said to be succeeding.

Since jobs are likely to be in short supply, could not parenting be considered part of one's employment, and all parents entitled to work only 3 or 4 days a week, with employers not considering this a concession, but a normal part of life?  Then a house could become a home once again where there was sure to be a welcome and a meal, at which all members were expected, provided.  I have to admit that one of my daughters claimed that she "longed to be a latch-key child" but that may well be just because she wasn't one.  We tend to yearn for what we haven't got.

There is a word "respect" which has gone out of fashion. Well, let's bring it back, sincerely, not by stupid rules of political correctness.  My father went totally blind when he was 33.  He would say, "I am blind, I can't see, I am not "visually impaired".  He was proud of his blindness and his ability to get around London and do a job in spite of it.  And he was respected, not pitied for it. 

Babies need respect for their needs, as they cannot stand up for themselves.  Parents need respect and should insist on it, or they cannot do their job.  Children need respect, and will live up to what is expected of them.  If you expect poor behaviour, you will get it.  If it is assumed they will behave well, they will try to do so.  We have given up the automatic respect we used to give to statesmen, the royal family, doctors, teachers, lawyers, but should grant it when they have proved they are worthy of it.  I am afraid we have exchanged that automatic respect into automatic disrespect, and that doesn't do any of us any good.  There are a lot of good people doing excellent jobs, and they will do them even better if given a bit of credit for it. 
My smallest grandchild was complaining that her teacher was bossy.  We asked her, didn't she think that that is what teachers have to be, and, on reflexion, she admitted that that is what a teacher is for - to get you to learn what she has to teach.  She's a bit young to learn the word "authoritative", but I think she got the idea.

We can respect each other better by not leaving litter behind in the bus or on a public bench, or throwing it down in the street.  Do as you would be done by is quite a good motto and makes life flow along smoothly.  If you don't want people sticking empty beer cans into your hedge, don't mess up things yourself.  It's easy enough.   Respect for the world around us.

And, of course, as ever, we need the help of the media.  Lots of attention to the many youngsters who are trying to build a better society - less to the mischief-makers.  But perhaps the press, on the whole, doesn't want a better world?

How we treat very small children

I saw something in the bus last Saturday which made my heart leap with joy.  It was a push-chair for a toddler in which the baby was facing its mother, something I have been yearning to see for years.  The mother told me, too, that many of the new models are facing that way.  What good news!

When I was a young mother in the 1950s I looked forward to pushing my toddler out, because it was a time when she was happy to be sitting peacefully in one place where I could see her rather than roaming around the house emptying the soap powder, or, even worse, the sugar onto the floor or pushing a stool around so she could climb on it to reach the ever-retreating ornaments, or even just quietly playing with her toys when I, alarmed at the quiet, would go and destroy the whole thing by peeping at her, which would remind her to come and get under my feet again.  We had great "conversations" going down the street and point things out to each other and she'd learn new words and it was a totally satisfactory part of the day.  That is, until she wanted to get out and walk!  However, when my grandchildren were small in the 1970s their push-chairs faced away from me.  No interaction was possible while we were out, and I noticed the faces of other children, and have ever since.  They don't enjoy their outings.  They look worried and withdrawn and well they might, as they are pushed out first into any new situation., alone in the world as far as they can see.

It wasn't so bad when push-chairs were folded to get on the bus.  Then they at least got to sit on Mum's knee and be spoken to and could look out of the window and see what was going on around them.  Now they are shoved into that little alcove, facing just a grey wall, and can see neither the outside world nor the other passengers, nor Mum or Dad.  We wouldn't like it!  In a train, for example, everybody covets the window seat.   Even if this situation is to be remedied, so much the better, but those already strapped into their expensive monstrosities aren't likely to  have them replaced.

I think it is harmful to give children the wrong impression of the outside world.  It is not a dangerous place to be hurried through, but one to be interpreted, talked about, explained. A little child's life is a constant learning experience and parents are there to help it along, not be constantly on a mobile phone to somebody else.  Your child is somebody.

It is so interesting to see how everything changes over the years.  When I was a child, in the 1940s, my mother used to get hot under the collar about young mothers who, she considered, had "tarted themselves up" accompanied by very neglected-looking, even dirty children. This was in Tulse Hill, south London, a very average commuter inner suburb.  

Now, in Croydon 70 years later, I get upset because the opposite is the case.  It is the babies who have become the fashion plates and the mothers' style is the neglected look.  Perhaps we are just a critical family who look around for something to disapprove of?   I prefer to think it is because we really love babies and want them to be happy.

Baby clothes have disappeared and instead they are dressed in miniature adult wear.  This looks delightful and funny and charming in the shop and on the moppets in the magazines, but they spend a lot of time more or less in bed, and how many people go to bed in their blue jeans and leather jackets?  Wouldn't the babies be more comfortable in their old-fashioned baby-grows?  And, before they can walk, they would certainly be better off without those adorable little shoes or boots.

A bit later, when they go to the playground, and these are less and less used, I have noticed, they are constantly being reminded to keep clean and not do anything the least bit dangerous.  Why not take them to the playground in clothes that can take a bit of rough and tumble?  And you can't do much of that, on that emasculated equipment, which has been so scaled down that they can never have the excitement of being taken down the slide by an older brother or sister.  The dreaded "health and safety" has been at work there, I feel.

I don't think we are very kind or understanding  about older children either.
Enough Grumpy Old Woman for today, that will be for tomorrow.

Introducing Myself

The Friendly Streets

On the face of it, neither our own old age, nor the difficult age we live in, is funny.  But when you start to put your bus pass in the fridge and the butter in your handbag, and to name five other relatives before you reach the one you want, and when firemen are told that the most important lives for them to save are their own and nursery school staff aren't allowed to cuddle tiny children to comfort them when they hurt themselves, then we have to either laugh or cry.   Crying brings temporary relief, but humour is more versatile and lasts longer.

When we are children we hear the phrase "Life Begins at Forty" and it shakes our belief that grown-ups know it all, because every child knows that at 40 you have one foot in the grave.  It is only when you reach that venerable age that you understand the meaning of the phrase, and in fact every decade has its compensations and we go on enjoying them (50 or so and no more fear of unwanted pregnancies, 60 or 65 and you get lots of "concessions".) At 70 you are still pretending to be middle-aged and can get away with it, but at 80 - there's no getting away from it, you're old.

I have never heard anyone say "Life Begins at 80", but it has its points.  For one thing, the Government has just sent me £200 to help pay for fuel.   But there's a lot more than that.  So long as you have your health and a bit of help here and there, there's much to enjoy - a wonderful freedom.  You can get up and go to bed when you like (no timetable to stick to), wear what you like without worrying about fashion (in fact may get an unexpected compliment from a granddaughter when you put on something retrieved from the back of the cupboard from 30 years ago which she tells you is "retro"), accept invitations or refuse them, say what you like- even get away with being politically incorrect, pretend to be deaf when it suits you,  and you always get a seat on the bus!  And you have worked out what it is you want and don't want to do - you are out of the rat-race.  No more competition!  Lovely!

Which brings me to the friendly streets.  One advantage we oldsters have is that we grew up before the days of the "Anti-Hero".  That was when heroes were the good guys and the bad guys got their come-uppance in the end.  I think that was even a rule when it came to films (Hayes Office) - the same one that said when two people were on a bed one had to have their foot on the floor!  If I'm wrong, someone will love to correct me.  I blame James Bond for starting it all - a truly horrible man who was, is ,a hero!   Now everybody despises good guys.  It's "cool" to be bad.  I've always liked Cliff Richard, for example, but everybody else seems to hate him.  Starting up a sing-song, when asked, at a wet Wimbledon and getting even the rather serious Navratilova singing lustily seemed to me an admirable thing to do .  If I'd been there I'd have been grateful, it must have been a lot better than sitting glumly being dripped on and waiting in silence for the rain to stop, but he has been mocked for it ever since.  Perhaps if he had said "I'll do it for £20,000" he'd have been better understood?

So I think we grew up  taking it for granted that most people were quite nice and only villains were nasty people.  I still think that is the case. You can count on it.  After all, if you fall down in the street you know that in no time at all somebody will be helping you, finding a chair from a shop or lying you down if that is what is needed, someone else covers you with a coat, yet another phones for an ambulance, staying with you until it comes and probably giving you a telephone number in case it is needed later.  But, somehow, we don't think it is the case.  Newspapers make their money on muggings and murders and   obviously wouldn't get any readers if they just wrote about  the 99.99% of  people who get  home safely.  But the press does create a climate of fear which I think is quite unnecessary, especially for old people.  They particularly don't like to go out in the dark, but, for goodness sake, in the winter that's about 4 p.m. The young, if inclined to be violent, mostly attack each other, apparently to grab each other's phones.  I haven't even got a mobile phone and if I did have it certainly wouldn't be the kind anyone would want to steal.  I will come home as late as I like on the bus.  My children don't like it, but I don't want to be dependent on mini-cabs drivers whose taste in music I don't share, and who no longer come to the door, but just telephone from the kerb to say they are there!  There will come a time for that, but I'm going to enjoy my freedom while I can.  Besides, the dear old bus is free.

But I wouldn't launch into a blog - which is difficult for somebody as IT-ignorant as I am - in fact couldn't have been achieved without the help of the next-generation-but-one, without a more serious intention.  For I believe we do collect some wisdom over the years.

I am emboldened to try to share my views with some other people because recently two issues that I have been bothering myself about for over twenty years have just now been recognised as worth acting upon.  Writing to MPs, writing to papers, attacking the local Council, none of them had any effect, but now they are happening.  If only somebody had listened to me 20 years ago, a lot of anguish would have been avoided.

L S LOWRY 'The Village Square'

Empty Houses and the Housing Shortage

In 1991 I worked on the Census.  It was well known that there was plenty of empty housing in London (enough to house the population of the city of Leeds was the figure quoted) but it was nonetheless shocking to me to discover that on my patch at least 5% of the accommodation was empty.  I looked into the matter further and discovered that very little Council Tax was payable on empty property.  This seemed crazy, for it is anti-social to keep a house empty when it is needed by others and obviously the owners did not need either to sell or to rent out, so they could afford to pay tax.  I thought the tax should be increased  each year that the house was empty.  At least even if they still did not feel they had to sell, the owners could be contributing to the Council's  Housing budget. On top of this aspect, some empty property is an eyesore andattracts dumping.  By my reckoning thousands of children could have grown up in less crowded conditions if somehow I could have got this rather obvious point through to those that decide our fate.   It is only now, in 2011, that Central Government has given permission for Councils to reduce the discount allowable!  Why should there be a discount at all?

This reminded me of something I had experienced in Switzerland, the country with such a good reputation for order and reason.  I was living there for a while because my then husband had some work there, and I was friendly with a family of musicians who were poor (as so many musicians tend to be) and had several children.  There was a housing shortage there too, and they were offered, at a very low rent, the chance to live in a big old house which was awaiting demolition.  It was bliss for them - they could practise their music without annoying anybody, and their children, and mine too, had a great time roaring around the empty rooms.   This lasted a couple of years and they were transferred to a flat in a block, where there was a problem with cello practice and the sound of, by this time, not so tiny feet rushing around.  The house was demolished, but it was at least 10 years before the hospital wing which was to be built on the site was started on.  Those children could have grown up in the house that suited them so well.

In all the efforts I made to talk to various officials, I got the impression that people just don't care if we have empty housing at the time of a housing shortage.  This seems to me the moment when ordinary people all over the world are determined to get their views recognised by Governments.  This is why I seek a wider  arena in which to air views I consider reasonable.

L S LOWRY 'The Derelict House'

Next time:  treatment of small children.

Public Transport on Christmas Day

I have just booked my taxi for Christmas Day.  It's not so long ago that public transport ran on that day.  It's one when families like to get together but are likely to drink and be unable, therefore, to fetch all their near and dear, so many lonely Christmases are spent.

Probably a good proportion of drivers have no particular feeling for Christmas and consider it an ordinary day and wouldn't mind working.  Having that day off would have to be a right for those who care.

Nothing ever gets done very fast, but I just wonder if there would be enough demand for this valuable service to be reinstated for Christmas Day 2012?   By all accounts, it would seem we are due for even leaner times a year from now, and there is a lot of free fun to be had when families assemble in unaccustomed numbers.