This is how it should be…
July 14, 2010Children are delightful. I can’t help but smile when, on the way to work, I see kids playing in the playground. Sadly we’ve developed a paranoia about children. Victorian values taught that they should be seen and not heard, but now it seems they should not been heard or seen.
An indicative trend at the moment is the tendency of some picture editors to blur out the faces of children. It’s weird: it almost makes you feel criminal looking at the picture and isn’t even applied consistently according to any law, otherwise everyone would be doing it:
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Sometimes real life proves that we won’t be influenced by people who want to peddle fear. This mother got chatting to a nice man on the tube. She had her son occupying one of the seats, which she gave up to another passenger. He wriggled on her lap, wanting to play tarzan on the handrail, so she let the man hold him as the boy climbed the post. They played together for about 20 minutes until the man had to get off for his stop. He didn’t steal the kid.

Some countries regard children as their parents’ first, but with society taking a hand in things second. Isn’t it healthier to think like that, rather than live in fear of being accused of being perverse for taking delight in the innocence and beauty of children and responsibility for our next generation?





The Irish urge to travel soon kicked in, and Dad went to swinging 60s London to seek his fortune. It was there that he worked for Allied Underwriters before setting up his own business. It was in London that he met Tina, my mother, and they settled in North London, moving to Esher when I was born.
Dad and I shared a lot. He was a confidant and advisor and a great source of strength for me. Putting to one side for a moment his clear disappointment that I wasn’t in the Irish National Rugby team, some of his enthusiasms did rub off on me; a love of film and useless information, of good food and drink and a revelry in language and banter. My interest in history started from evenings spent standing at his side as he sliced spuds into a frying pan whilst telling me stories about the Potato Famine.
We will remember and miss his humour and wit. I’m sure that you will remember a little story or two of your own, that he may have shared with you. As I wrote a few notes down for today, I started to recollect a few stories myself. I gave up after 20 odd sheets of A4; most of which I dare not repeat, but my favourite was always the one of him trying to persuade Tina to learn the Irish anthem and to recite this at the Irish Embassy as a pre-requisite to obtaining an Irish passport.
Austin was a big man in stature but within that large frame beat an even bigger heart. His natural warmth, generosity and sense of humour brought joy and pleasure to any company he was in. I never heard a bad word said about him and I rarely heard him say a bad word about another man. Except the late Sid Perks but then not all of the characters in the Archers can be perfect-And of course his daily rants about the Royal Mail.













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