Corona virus? Use a hankie!

While I was born some decades after WWII, my grandparents almost made me feel as if I had lived through it with them. I almost have palpable memories, even if they are genetic, rather than lived experience.

Sometimes when modern life goes a bit too insane or paranoid I seek refuge in the common sense of those times.

How did the message 'Coughs and sneezes spread diseases' become out of date exactly?

Why did they stop fining people for spitting in the street when TB (tuberculosis) can still be spread this way, and is actually back in the UK again after a long absence?

I can only assume we must have become careless and complacent, losing our laws, common sense and manners when antibiotics were invented and multiple vaccinations came along, assuming they could save us from all ills.

Pre-antibiotics, common sense, rigidly enforced, was all there was. And a bar of carbolic.

So far it seems the Corona virus has killed no more people than the average flu outbreak. The scary bit is the unusual strain of it, the fact there is no vaccine and no anti-viral medication.

In reality there are plenty of people who WON'T get it, even if it spreads worldwide because their immune systems are too strong or they are symptomless carriers. As with any disease it is the vulnerable who are most at risk, the very old, the very young and those with pre-existing conditions or who are poor or malnourished. Those with compromised immune systems, in other words.

So before we go nuts stockpiling masks, goggles and spacesuits, why don't governments go back to basics in their nationwide emergency measures? When governments actually start introducing nationwide emergency measures, that is.

Fine everyone who coughs or sneezes without using a handkerchief or who spits in the street.
Insist that everyone from the very young to the very old washes their hands at every opportunity and train all cleaning staff to pay particular attention to door handles, light switches, toilet flushes and everything else likely to be touched by multiple persons in public places. In fact I am staggered we have not had foot-operated WC flushes and handbasin taps for years, like many Italian cities do.

Enforcing sensible behaviours and encouraging people to look after themselves (and each other) will surely rid the world of this virus quicker than anything else, and until it either burns itself out, as viruses eventually do, or an antidote is found.

Good personal hygiene should never go out of fashion, irrespective of how many antibac chemicals and medicines are invented.

Another aspect of WWII, sadly forgotten, is the equally useful saying 'Keep Calm and Carry On.' It is both unhelpful and downright irresponsible to allow or facilitate mass hysteria. The virus of fear can be just as deadly.

Finally a friend and journalist - Fleur Kinson - offered the following thought which I quote in full; 'Why hasn't the World Health Organization forced the end of the Chinese market practices that cause ALL of these modern epidemics? Swine flu, bird flu, SARS and all the rest have been born in crowded Chinese markets where live and slaughtered animals are clumped together with people in unhygienic conditions. It is known and anticipated that all these new epidemic viruses arise in these environments in China. Why has no international agency forced the Chinese to adopt difference practices? Countless lives across the world are affected. We know where these things start, so why don't we stop those environments?'

A Week In An Almost-Perfect World

We have just returned from a week's European cruise to celebrate my mother's 80th birthday on the P&O Ventura. She had never been on a cruise ship before (unless you count a converted troop ship in her 20s) so it seemed the perfect landmark experience to mark the occasion.

Moreover it removed all the stresses and strains of having to think about food such as shopping, cooking and four different people consuming four different diets. Then there was the delight of only having to unpack once and the convenience of not having to walk too far for the member of our party with arthritic knees. Indeed we noticed a high number of passengers with disabilities, including children. It was the ideal holiday option for those with mobility issues with access to all public areas and abundant lifts throughout. It was also the ideal holiday option for parents who could leave their kids in the Kid's Club until 11.45pm at night. Every beaming child I met simply couldn't get enough of Kids Club!

Everyone looked happy from old to young and I didn't hear a single mention of Brexit for the entire week.

Two days in and I was seriously wondering why P&O were not running the country, so well organised was everything. The Captain's word was law and operated within Maritime Law (taken 100% seriously) and he ran a benign dictatorship. Attending the emergency drill upon boarding was not optional, but imposed with the lightest of touches. If you didn't have your cruise card swiped to prove you had attended, you would have to attend a special one just for you! Getting on and off at various ports was treated similarly seriously. You had to be swiped in and out with your bags checked upon re-boarding, passport at the ready.

Every night a print newspaper was hand delivered to the rack next to your cabin door which detailed the following day's activities/excursions and was avidly devoured cover to cover by all on board as encouraged by the Captain, to be carried around in bags and pockets and frequently consulted. We subsequently realised there must be an onboard printing press when they had to make last minute changes.

While an up-to-the-minute cruise ship on the exterior, it was touchingly old school in terms of the onboard activities, swimming, table tennis, shows, talks, cinema, casino, shopping, theatre, eating, drinking, pool parties, 4-channel TV (unless you count the Ventura channels, one of which was the front mast camera, for those without a window cabin). Everyone was literally forced to talk to each other and interact. In some cases, re-connect. If you were determined not to get away from it all, shipboard wifi chuntered along at dialup speed, if you could be bothered to pay £12.50 for a 24hr package.

Talking to fellow cruisers it became apparent that they adored this Britain as it should be on sea for a week, dipping a toe into other cultures, but basically eating their own food, and getting back onboard for dinner if they could. More seasoned cruisers had indeed often given up on destinations not reachable by cruise ship. Far too much trouble. Yet everyone we met was affable and in their element and they all had interesting tales to tell and cruise tips to share. We learned that the best tomatoes in the world grow in the volcanic soil of Iceland, but the Icelanders won't export them (or allow other tomatoes to be imported lest the strain be tainted), You have to visit Iceland to sample the best tomato soup in the world.

The afternoon tea was the killer. Luckily we only made it twice owing to shore excursions but we felt bloated for hours afterwards. Rather sweetly there was a daily afternoon tea for solo passengers to meet and socialise too. There were black tie or theme dinners on a number of evenings, which made an occasion of the evening - and obviously gave a good excuse to take portraits and sell photos!

The service was amazing, to the extent that sometimes plates and cups were whipped away a little too enthusiastically! Each day your cabin would be made up with fresh bedding and towels (including pool towels) and each night, your steward would turn down your bed covers and leave a chocolate on each pillow. Many of the crew were international and seasoned cruisers told us that cruise ship jobs were much prized by the Filipinos in particular who would work long days for 3-5 years on cruise ships and then be able to go home and buy a plot of land or build a house for themselves, which would otherwise remain an impossible dream in their homeland. The ship would also pay for them to fly home to their families and take shore leave fairly regularly in between times, though it was obviously tough for those with children to be away from them for so long. Tips were built into your daily cruise charges, which, when you counted up the cost for a week were amazing value compared to staying in a luxury hotel without everything included for the same amount of time.

Our excursions into Europe were revealing. Tour guides used such alien phrases as 'my country' and proceeded to reel off lists of achievements and products of their country, with undisguised pride. We drove through miles and miles of industrial landscapes where real people did real jobs before reaching the pearls of Bruges and Amsterdam (many Europeans have the good sense to build the ugly and workaday stuff outside of their historic centres with very little creeping into the hallowed tourist areas).

Health and Safety legislation has clearly passed the rest of Europe by as we observed a clog maker turn a pair of wooden clogs in four minutes, minus safety goggles or guards and without handing out any goggles to the audience, some of whom were hit by wood shavings. In Bruges, boatloads of tourists admired the vistas of unspoiled heritage from 14th-19th century without a single life jacket between them, including us, once we finally boarded a boat. Rather amusingly as we got up to disembark following our bi-lingual canal tour by a Peter Sellers lookalike, I saw some discreet stickers inside the boat indicating a figure wearing a life jacket. We were also driven to Amsterdam by a coach driver clearly slightly off his bonce on weed, making inappropriate jokes about the sex lives of dead nuns in broken English as he managed to forget where he was dropping us off. The real hazard in Amsterdam though were the cyclists who literally come at you from all directions at once. And then there's the trams and normal traffic jostling for position. Luckily few people in the city appear to have given in to mobile or headphone addiction, much as they might be prone to other temptations. Talking of which many of the locals came across as rude with a tendency to just barge into each other, or shove each other out of the way, no apologies. Whatever the arguments for and against, weed certainly turns people into a-holes on the manners front and stinks out whole streets and cafes in places. Graffiti too seems on the rise since my last visit to Amsterdam, though at least all the shops appear to be thriving and I didn't see a single homeless person, just a half-hearted beggar bin hoaking. There was a decided lack of public toilets in Amsterdam (unless you count the open air pissoirs (no handwashing facilities) for men and not a chemist to be found! The red light district appeared to have expanded into the most unlikely backwater streets. We even passed a middle-aged lady in her scanties sitting in the window of a deserted side-street at 3pm on a Monday afternoon. Was she offering an OAP discount at that time of the day? Were the users of the street pissoirs made to wash their hands, or indeed anything else, before procuring her services? The mind boggled.

The main thing about Amsterdam is that everything is much further away than it seems with a confusing road layout so buying a Metro ticket is a must to explore the city by tram or you can easily see only a small part of the city and not get the most out of your visit. There are also many streets and canals that are inaccessible by Metro and taxi, though you can intersect them with these. My mother had always wanted to visit the Anne Frank house but found most of the tickets were sold online up to two months ahead of time with only a small proportion of tickets sold on the day, a ready made queue of several hundred for them, so sadly she did not get her wish. My partner wanted to visit the Van Gogh museum but extraordinarily found out all tickets had been pre-sold for the next three days! Digital exclusion is alive and well.

Ah well at least the Puss-in-Boats - the world's only floating cat sanctuary couldn't disappoint. Could it? Sadly it was only open for two hours a day and the queue was enormous! Though I did catch a glimpse of pussy from the other side of the canal where there was a glass side to the boat.

Bruges was gorgeous. And tasted as good as it looked. I spent most of my Euros on a selection of fruit-centred choccies from one of the leading chocolatiers whose cafe we had earlier sampled across the street. Ponies and traps were the best way to get around and there were proud shiny horses of every hue, including piebald, trotting smartly through the cobbled streets, some with trendy two-tone manes and all with a pooper scooper trailing behind, much like a lawnmower tray. Unlike Amsterdam, there were chemists everywhere, even in the picturesque main square and public toilets were also plentiful, quaintly marked male and female.

The odd thing about Bruges was that despite its picturesqueness, its cleanliness, its lack of graffiti, prosperous shops and lack of homeless and beggars, there was a frequent stench of drains to be found round many corners, though the reason for this remained a mystery.

The only charity shop we saw during our travels was a branch of Oxfam in Bruges, which sold fair trade products, not second hand products. It seems the continent does not really do charity shops (as I noticed in France, some time ago).

While I am not sure I could spend weeks or even months on a cruise ship (or one day aspire to become one those urban legend old ladies who apparently flee to one for the rest of their lives, in preference to an infinitely duller and more financially ruinous nursing home), I would certainly cruise again, if only for the separate vegan/vegetarian menus now available on board!. I think it would have to be the Fjords next time. It is also an interesting example of community living, with some people forming lifelong friendships aboard in addition to reconnecting with families they otherwise almost need to make appointments to see in our frenetic modern lives.

What Has Switzerland Got that UK Hasn't...?

Crack negotiators, clearly!

Can we borrow them?

PLEASE?

A Climate of Climate Change

When I was a child I remember being scared rigid by children's encyclopedias warning me there would be no oil, coal or gas in 20 years time. Fossils were finite, apparently, and we greedy humans were to blame by using them all up.
But how will we live? I used to wonder.

Fast forward more than 30 years later - and guess what? We are still using oil, gas (and imported) coal. We have just sold our electricity off to the French, Spanish and Germans and closed our coal mines down in favour of cheaper (imported) coal.
So much for national energy and food security - once considered so vital to our country by 'the experts' - all of which now appears to have gone out the window.

Today's children are being similarly scared that the whole world is running out of everything and somehow they are to blame.

I consider this monstrously unfair, particularly when they have so many more pressures to contend with than my generation of children - bullying via social media for example, a 50% family split rate, the thought that they may never own their own home, among others.

Now children are being encouraged to skip school to take part in climate change protests.
Is anyone telling them the truth though?
Actually kids, yes, the world is in a mess, but it's not your fault.
What you can do to help though is lobby your government to ban cheap imports and anything which is not repairable or recyclable. You can take a stand against a throwaway society which encourages you to over-consume, unchecked and largely unregulated.

It is then just a matter of being sensible in your own homes.Switch it off if you're not using it, have 4-minute showers, wear a jumper before you put the heating up, boycott single-season fashions.  Think about the number of flights your family takes, walk and cycle as much as possible, etc etc. If you have a garden, cultivate it for the bees and butterflies, grow your own organic food and plant a tree or two if space permits. And don't upgrade your devices just because you can. Make them last as long as possible.

If every family embraced simple commonsense measures to consider the environment, what an instantly much better world it would be. None of us need to have a complicated understanding of environmental issues. We just need to do our bit and being sensible is about the best thing anyone can do. My grandparents didn't know the meaning of the world environmentalism but were greener than anyone I know - purely out of economic necessity and scarcity - see poem I wrote about them here. People can be green by simply not wasting stuff is a message I think is often lost these days.

And yes, we do need to be more responsible in terms of overpopulation - to prevent it in future - not to penalise those already here. Ensure the entire world has access to free contraception for starters. Ban free fertility treatment. Give people a tax break for remaining child-free or adopting a child who needs a good home. Economic incentives are a proven mass behavioural influencer.

We also need to beware of greenwash and unnecessary fear mongering. This doesn't help anyone, particularly if youngsters end up so paralysed by fear, they become medicated or turn to addictions rather than growing into fully functioning members of society ready to do something genuinely useful with their sense of social responsibility, their 'wokeness'.

The Oxymoron of Mandatory Organ Donation

From 2020 the NHS will assume we are happy to donate any or all of our organs unless we have 'opted out' and organ donation in UK will become mandatory.

How does that work? A donation is a voluntary gesture. A voluntary gesture is no longer a voluntary gesture if it is made mandatory.

From the number of online commentators supposedly unbothered by this change in their status from living human being (which you need to be in most cases in order to have your organs successfully harvested) to property of the state to use as it sees fit, one could easily assume there should be no shortage of genuine organ donors.

So why this mandatory move? What are the NHS doing wrong that so many altruists are not having their wishes respected with regard to organ donation? In other words, why the shortage of organ donors?

And what of those of us who wish not to be donors? How do we ensure our wishes are respected, whether for religious or ethical reasons? Or those who are perhaps happy for say, their kidneys, to be donated, but not their eyes, skin, bones, face etc?

And will our government adopt the DVLA approach to human beings like they do with vehicles in that we are designated the 'keepers' of our cars rather than the owners, so the state can theoretically seize our cars at any time. Will we simply become the 'keepers' rather than the owners of our own bodies?

I remember when we were simply asked to carry a kidney donor card. Now, rather like the taxman, they want the lot!

I foresee a time, possibly within a decade from now, when every human body will be routinely cannibalised, sorry, harvested, of all useable and saleable parts with a whole macabre international trade in body parts springing up in UK, the prime cuts of course, reserved for the super rich. We also live in a world which increasingly seeks to make money out of we human beings to the zenith - literally from the cradle to the grave. AND sell off our NHS to boot.

Yet another nail in the coffin of the sanctity of life and respect for individuals and their wishes.

Not surprisingly this change to the Organ Donor Act is linked to the emotive case of two blonde, blue eyed angels, one alive thanks to the death of the other, dubbed 'Max and Keira's Law'. A tragic case to be sure but also a success story in so far as organ donation worked in this case, so why the need for a law named after these children which compromises the human rights of the rest of us? It smacks of emotional blackmail.

To echo another rallying cry 'My body. My right to choose!' I for one have zero confidence in a so-called 'opt out' system when none of us have any idea of the manner or mode of our deaths and it will probably be a case of 'Act first. Ask questions later', particularly when donation decisions need to be made so quickly in order for most organs to be viable when they require a still-beating heart.

Oh, and by the way, in case you weren't bothered by your organs being harvested around a still-beating heart, there is no such thing as 'brain death' according to Dr Byrne (video here)

The Drug-Free Pursuit of Happiness

At what point does an individual decide they are too young, too beautiful, too healthy and their lives are going too well so they will muck it all up with drugs?

At what point do they decide it is morally acceptable to support a trade which kills thousands of people worldwide every year, not just users, but individuals all along the supply chain from production to distribution in crimes and murders? 

Then there are the countless crimes, murders, accidents and suicides committed by those under the influence of drugs. 

As if this wasn't a high enough social and economic price to pay,  let's not forget the mental and physical ill health, time off work and additional social and health care costs to society by people rendered sick and disabled before their time.

People are terrified of dementia when old it seems, but not of risking their lifelong sanity and mental/physical functionality when young. 

It is not unusual nowadays to see relatively young men and women looking twenty years older than their age staggering along our streets in broad daylight, permanently raddled and disabled by their addictions. Worse still, this kind of self-inflicted disability no longer appears to carry any social stigma and even qualifies those who've let their lives spiral for lifelong benefits. Society is, in effect, rewarding them for dropping out rather than sorting themselves out.

Mental health issues are often cited with 'self-medication' used as an excuse, but few of these people are doctors. Why would they assume they can cure their mental ills with street drugs of unknown ingredients, provenance and purity any more than they would assume that they can cure a cancer by eating talcum powder? Plus we all know that if you are in a hole, the first thing to do is stop digging. Drugs are never a ladder out of that hole, just an ever deeper and more nightmarish hole, removing those in it further and further from the light at the top.

The legalisation that stoners clamour for would simply create new and even more complex issues by sending out the very dangerous message that drugs are safe, socially acceptable, and even sanctioned by our government. I doubt they would save a single life in reality. Quite the reverse as more and more people took up drug taking and we saw more and more crimes, murders, road traffic accidents and suicides as a result.
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The war on drugs is failing through lack of enforcement and corruption in high places, not because it isn't a good idea. 

Taking drugs will never fit in the good ideas box. It is an undeniable waste of time, human potential and life. Those sucked into this world become a flaky waste of time to associate with and selfish to the point of violence in some cases to those who dare to try and put themselves between the addict and their supply. 

Stoners are quick to point the finger at alcohol as equally insidious (as if that somehow makes drug taking ok) but no one has ever suffered psychosis or lifelong mental health issues as a result of one pint. The road to alcoholic ruin tends to be a much longer and more committed one with many more opportunities for redemption along the way.  Furthermore a drunk person can be sober in 24hrs. A stoner can take days to fully recover their wits, by which time they have often imbibed further 'hits' so that their system is never fully clear.

Behind every addict invariably lies a trail of angels with broken wings who tried to help or save them from themselves.

It is understandable that human beings should enjoy being high and escapism from their problems and the weight of the world. 

But there is another and better way and that is to study meditation or NLP for free, safe and natural highs. No downers or health prices to pay either. 

Volunteering is said to be one of the best cures for depression, but any activity instilling self-respect, confidence or pride or involving giving something back to society will see a similar blossoming of mental welfare. It is self-obsession and fear-based behaviour which promotes depression and addiction. 

To those who subsequently find the strength to face their fears and slay their personal dragons one by one, the greatest gift of all awaits - contentment and peace - leading to happiness and living in the magic of life.

The Laws of Control

Interesting to see the new law against psychological domestic abuse come in this week. I am intrigued to see how it will be implemented, let alone proven and prosecuted.

I've had cause to think about this subject quite a bit lately (albeit happily not on my own account) and it strikes me that there are some startling similarities between the following:

• Parental Alienation Syndrome (PAS)
• Joining a cult
• Finding oneself trapped in an abusive relationship.

First; target an individual who may either be physically dependent (ie a child) or emotionally vulnerable in some way.
Second; follow up with the seduction process - showing them your best side, appealing to what you know they want and convincing them you are the only party who loves/understands them/can provide this and has their best interests at heart, or if you are a cult, offer them what they might be searching for - ie a sense of belonging or purpose. Enlightenment even.
Third; install a world view (ie it's US against the world!) and convince them that your view is the only valid view.
Fourth; play some mind games for good measure where love and approval are withheld at certain points to incite desperation and dependency and then granted in abundance when the subject pleases by doing your bidding or ceding your righteousness and is duly rewarded. Undermine their confidence and make them doubt themselves. Insert some random madness, just to keep them on their toes, like punishing them for something they haven't done or over which they had no control. Be nice one minute and nasty the next. This can also have the effect of causing them to question their own sanity, playing right into your hands.
Fifth; separate to dominate. Discourage your subjects from seeing their family or certain friends who might (even unwittingly) undermine your programming or control of them. Make a big fuss if they do and find reasons why they shouldn't and why they are bad for them. Seize on minor or imagined slights to escalate into major feuds or convince them that your vengeance for a misdeed, misunderstanding or oversight is also theirs, eventually culminating in no contact at all and thus the severance of support and potential rescue networks.
Sixth; reinforce all of the above behaviours at regular intervals. If your victim shows signs of slipping from your control or even disobedience or rebellion, employ emotional blackmail. Shame your victim, point out their inadequacies and how they couldn't manage without you/owe you everything or threaten disownment or some other dire consequence. How many times have we heard of a parent who has a health 'crisis' every time a dutiful adult daughter tries to leave home for example? This may be on the milder side of the domestic abuse scale (and possibly not covered by the new law) but it is still emotional blackmail and coercion.

Luckily I have only once found myself in a controlling relationship. When very young I fell for a seemingly charming and attentive older man who really seemed to love me but, in retrospect, capitalised on my difficult relationship with my parents and need for a father figure in order to persuade me not to see said parents for three years, encouraged me to give up a job I disliked which seemed wonderful at first until I realised I was then financially dependent on him, and frowned on my going out or having any kind of life or friends apart from him, frequently starting an argument on the rare occasions I asserted my free will in the matter.  Conversely he was not a sociable person (once he'd stopped making the efforts of our courtship), quite moody and disliked holidays, so we were never going to have a social life (or much fun) as a couple. He also pecked away at my confidence, alternately telling me he loved me, and in the next breath; 'but your trouble is...'. Luckily I realised everything amiss between us couldn't entirely be my fault before he got down to dictating my clothing choices or worse, and called time on the relationship, ill-equipped as I then felt to deal with adult life alone. Finally he had a world view - in his case of the 'spiritual' kind - to convince me of and justify his treatment of me 'for my own good'. Anyone who didn't go along with his world view was against him in his mind, for he was right and everyone else was living in error.

This experience left me with a horror of control down to control pants and an ability to spot controlling behaviour a mile off, however it is dressed. Overly charming or effusive people immediately invite suspicion as to what they are really like underneath, particularly as such individuals can often turn on a sixpence if you say the wrong thing, and I would far rather associate with people who pay fewer compliments but actually mean them.

In my view controlling behaviour often goes hand-in-hand with sociopathy (think psychopath without the axe!). However there are plenty who do it for power kicks or out of a sense of inadequacy themselves (I suspect my ex was a severe depressive, though he never admitted it). Perhaps perpetrators have a pathological fear of being abandoned or alone owing to some bad thing which has happened in their past so they take desperate measures to try and prevent this happening by attempting to own another human being, having never learned how to cultivate and maintain relationships legitimately. Having children can also be seen by some as the perfect way to 'own' and control other human beings or regard them as 'mini-me' extensions of themselves, even though this agenda is almost always doomed to failure as offspring grow up and either evolve or rebel into individuals in their own right.

Finally a fascinating recent case of domestic abuse which fits into none of the above three categories, yet which employed all of the steps. And just to prove Erin Pizzey's point that women can be every bit as psychologically manipulative as men. In fact they are often credited with far greater ingenuity in the artform than most men, who tend to follow more predictable patterns.

Psychological domestic abuse does not always lead to physical abuse. However physical abuse seldom occurs without a pattern of psychological abuse preceding it. And sometimes the physical abuse will be excused as an act of love - ie a single parent kills their children to 'save' them from custody being awarded to the other parent or from going into care. Notwithstanding infanticide, or any murder resulting from psychological domestic abuse such as a boyfriend killing a girlfriend, actually represents the ultimate act of control as in - 'if I can't have you, no one will', if not also a desire to punish a third party.

Proposing a Toast to More Temperance

Recently I met an attractive and effervescent fortysomething woman at a party. Among the top in her field according to colleagues, when not working hard, she enjoyed an enviable lifestyle of designer clothes, expensive holidays and a bachelorette pad in an exclusive waterfront development, not to mention a private box each time she went to the theatre. As the evening wore on however, it transpired all was not as it seemed.

Clara* was hoovering every complimentary drink in sight except the Thames itself,  gradually becoming louder and more incoherent, when not dancing, flirting and laughing somewhat manically. Periods of moroseness and drunken confession ensued. Her drinking it seems was all down to school bullying and feelings of worthlessness.

At her age? I wondered, in some disbelief. Hadn't she heard of therapy? How did it help that she now bullied herself with booze and took over where her school bullies had left off, concurring with them in her own opinion of herself?

Another of her colleagues revealed that it was Clara's habit to keep drinking until she found a bloke to take home. If she didn't she would stay out drinking all night and give home a miss.

I was shocked that anyone would dread returning to an empty des res quite this much and that an obviously intelligent middle-aged woman would be so bent on self-destruction.

I last saw Clara entering yet another bar, eyeliner now smudged and skin like crepe, but I had had enough by this time and told her I needed to go home and catch up on my beauty sleep. A look of sheer desperation crossed her face. 'I wish I could go home, I'm so tired and my feet are killing me.' she said. 'Then why don't you?' I asked, touching her arm. 'You should go home if you're not having fun any more and it's becoming a night of diminishing returns.' 'I can't.' she replied with finality, taking a swig of cocktail as if to emphasise the point.

I felt disturbed by conflicting emotions of pity and prejudice as she was very engaging, despite her obvious problems. Yet who was I to judge someone I scarcely knew?  I suppose the warning signs were there from the start when we were introduced and she joked (or so I assumed); 'I hate grown-ups. They are so dull. I hope I never grow up;' then threw back her head and laughed. I bit my lip as I quite enjoy being a grown-up and taking adult responsibility for myself.

One other nugget of information which came to light about Clara was that her drinking had spiralled out of control at roughly the same time Tony Blair had introduced the 24-hour drinking culture, back in the day when she was an exceedingly slim and pretty girl by all accounts, and could have had her pick of the marriage and motherhood prospects she had earlier bemoaned to me as being non-existent..

Now we hear that alcohol licencing is to be extended to small businesses other than pubs, clubs, bars and restaurants.

History demonstrates however that it is only when alcohol is heavily taxed (which is should be in view of the many millions its over-consumption costs this country in crime, emergency and healthcare), and there are strict licencing laws, that there has not been a high level of alcoholism in Britain. We have never been able to display the class of our European counterparts who sip rather than glug, and who for the most part, consider drinks as meal accompaniments rather than an indulgence in their own right.

In Victorian times pubs were regulated not just out of concern for people's moral welfare, but because it was recognised that over-consumption led to serious, sometimes fatal, accidents at work. And most mills, mines and farms were dangerous enough in those days.

Sometimes it seems the laws of this land have gone backwards rather than forwards if it can so easily be forgotten that the old measures were brought in for good reasons. Good reasons that have not necessarily changed that much over one and a half centuries. And though most workplaces are call-centre safe nowadays, there is still plenty of scope for accidents among the inebriated. A 60% higher chance, to be precise. And one person is still killed every half an hour owing to drink driving in this country, a risk the Victorians didn't have to worry about, so some new risks have arisen to replace the old.

To cap it all, despite drink-driving laws GARAGES are permitted to sell alcohol! What sort of a public message is that to send out?

We have also lost the shame factor. In the olden days, people would generally try and disguise their drinking and be mortified at being seen drunken in a public place (still an offence). These days individuals (and not just of university age) brag about how they got 'slaughtered last night' and appear to find their behaviour uproariously amusing rather than pathetic, and in some cases, tragic, let alone shameful in any way. Our country is an international laughing stock (and TV Reality staple) when it ventures abroad, so out of control have our citizens become whilst on holiday. Stag and Hen nights have turned into Stag and Hen weekends and even whole weeks of continuous drinking. It is no longer unusual to find twentysomethings dying of liver disease in our hospitals or of alcohol poisoning after a particularly heavy binge. One in five pop tracks now features references to binge drinking, the likes of Katy Perry en-fashioning it to the masses as if she were on some fat retainer from the booze industry. Amy Winehouse (was there ever a more aptly named pop star?) took train wreck chic to the next level altogether, both in her art and her life.

Conversely it has just been proposed that 'drunk tanks' be introduced in every town and city where drunken people can be locked up for their own safety overnight and charged £400. But the reason Police stopped using their Police cells to house the town drunk overnight was because they were afraid the town drunk might choke on his own vomit or have a stroke or heart attack and the Police would be found liable for not recognising that he was in need of medical assistance (not within their remit to provide). Hence the inexorable rise of A & E admissions, some even deposited there by the Police. So how would 'drunk tanks' circumvent this problem? And if they couldn't, would A & E departments then be given the power to fine patients admitted for alcohol abuse? I have long advocated they be given the power to fine such admissions (£500 was my suggestion) to set up a compensation fund for all the A & E staff they attack and  resources they take away from genuine cases of accident and emergency, some of whom suffer dire consequences when the local A & E department is clogged up with alcoholics.

In Victorian times, it could be argued that people had more reason for heavy drinking than they do now. Short, often brutal lives, devoid of many of the freedoms and comforts we take for granted today, constant pains of various kinds before the advent of painkillers, and no central heating or double-glazing to keep out the cold and wet, other than the warming liquids they imbibed. Where is our excuse now? It is all very well to wring our hands over not wanting to impose a 'nanny state' but this country doesn't hesitate to tax and Big Brother its denizens in every other area of life. What's so abhorrent about setting a few limits to help individuals like Clara who have no limits of their own?

As for Clara? When not waxing lyrically about her independence and how she much loved 'getting slaughtered' whenever she could, it was noticeable how the tears of a clown and the melancholy were never far from the surface.

Landlords Then and Now

Gone are the days of the late 70s and 80s when according to a friend who was a student at the time, a landlord could pick up a terrace in the north for between £5,000-£8,000, so that even a landlord of fairly modest savings or a small inheritance could quickly amass four or five of them, cram them full of students and never have to work again!

I never cease to be amazed what fond memories many of the parents I speak to in my job at a university seem to have of these near-slum dwellings, often with only one gas fire in the living room as the sole heating for the entire property, no shower and 1950s-flowered walls and leftover furniture crawling with damp, as they marvel at the comparative luxury of the power-showered houses their own university-age youngsters are about to move into.

In the good old bad old days of student housing holes in floors abounded, wiring crumbled in the hand and dangerous water heaters pumped out carbon monoxide. As for energy performance certificates and carbon reduction, these concepts were but a distant dream. Then a succession of Housing Acts and rising consumer expectations came along to spell the end of the glory days for many slum-standard landlords whose whole purpose in life had been to spend as little as possible on each property, though the knock-on effect of this (and probably the bit most fondly remembered by the parents of today's students) was the knock down rent most students paid of between £6-£30 per week, depending on region.

Of course these Housing Acts took some years to take effect with some landlords even now, getting away with renting seriously sub-standard housing, particularly to the broke and desperate and illegal immigrant workers.

At the other end of the spectrum, some would say local authorities have now gone too far with HMO licencing even forcing landlords to replace perfectly good locks for those which might actually compromise the crime-safety element of the house, even if they slightly increase the fire-escape times (not as vital as it used to be with modern fire detection equipment installed giving more notice). Many local authorities are also condemning perfectly good study bedrooms as being 'too small' when no tenant has ever complained about the size and the rent charged is commensurate to the size of the room and they typically also have use of a communal lounge. This reduces the number of rentable rooms per property/the affordability of the house per se and makes the landlord think twice about continuing if he is to lose a room. Six person property landlords with two spacious bath/shower rooms including WC's are also being asked to provide an EXTRA WC, which again the tenants have never asked for (ironic when an airline can get away with one WC per 50 passengers). All this cost has to be absorbed somehow, yet affordable rent becomes ever more pertinent in these constrained times.

Where the modern landlord is concerned, the costs of becoming a landlord have now risen to the point that many would-be landlords are deciding against it, or retiring early as the profit margins grow too narrow to make it worth their while with the high cost of the property itself, exorbitant buy-to-let mortgages, the ever rising burdens of tax, insurance, licensing fees, refurbishment, maintenance, maintenance contracts for fire safety, electrical safety and gas safety. The cumulative effect of so many costs is to remove a lot of good landlords from the market as the bad ones don't tend to be those who pay insurances, costs, maintenance or fees if they can get away with not doing so.

Landlord's mortgage companies are also starting to insert impossible clauses such as the following from the Nationwide, which no landlord/letting agent could accept when their first duty is to their tenants and the legally-binding tenancy contracts they have with them.

"ln the event of the property being repossessed by a mortgagee of the landlord to ensure that vacant possession of the property is given with a reasonable period"

Or this one suggesting that the tenant should pay any mortgage arrears belonging to the landlord!

"lf the tenant receives notice from a mortgagee of the landlord that the landlord's mortgage account is in arrears then to make payment of the rent to such mortgagee until the arrears are paid and the landlord hereby consents to this arrangement".

Landlording particularly grew in popularity during the pension fund plunders and Lloyds name scandal of the 90s as those of middle-income who thought they were making reasonable provision for their old age had a horrible shock and realised they needed to invest in something they could count on as a return for their old age. With property prices on the up after the last slump, this became bricks and mortar. This trend became fuelled still further by the explosion of TV property programmes suggesting that becoming a property developer/landlord was easy.

And while too many landlords have their down side (ie not leaving enough affordable property in the market for first time buyers), they still serve a function for students or for those who cannot afford to buy in any case, yet have no chance of progressing on their local social housing list (and I was on my own local council social housing list for the best part of 10 years with scant progress, until in the end I had to look to alternative solutions.) The only problem is that even reasonable rent will now swallow up an individual's salary to the point they can ill afford to save for that 20% minimum deposit. And since Margaret Thatcher's 'Right to Buy' scheme for council tenants from the early 80s, vast swathes of social housing have left the housing stock pool never to be replaced, resulting in today's drastic shortage.

Notes From a Northern Ireland

A few random jottings and photographs from my recent parental visit to the home country.



Is it the London Eye?



No, it's the Belfast WHEEL!



Is it the Gherkin?




















No, it's Belfast's very own Pickled Onion!

Is it just me or are tourist attractions in danger of becoming as homogenised as High Streets these days?














Though there's always Tesco's ceiling to admire in Belfast city centre.














And railway stations to marvel at in the former UK capital of terrorism flaunting LITTER BINS.

Dear readers, you'll be heartened to know I resisted temptation. Probably something to do with my ecstasy at the £6.40 return fare from Ballymena-Belfast, a journey of some 26 miles which would have cost at least three times that on the mainland. No wonder English railways don't trust we disenfranchised 'travelling public' with LITTER BINS! Oh and NI trains arrive on time and have empty seats as well.




















Civilisation in railway stations goes on.
Hmm. I wonder if this would work on the Tube?






Did I mention the splendid shopping in Ballymena?






'Go Gay. Now. Before it's too late! And don't forget our big Gay giveaway on late opening Thursday.'




















Where else can you buy a brand new 1980's radio alarm with no FM band on, as I did (inadvertantly) on my last visit, and see clock and watch boxes stacked up to the ceiling on all sides?
It will be a sad day when shops still selling 1970's/1980's stock are no more. Northern Ireland is pretty well the last bastion of these treasure houses to catch one before they die. But make no mistake, Donaghy's sells some pretty funky clocks and pocket radios (as long as you don't mind about the FM thing).















You will find household emporia by the dozen, so no excuses not to perfect the art of Housewifery. I guarantee you will care about the perfect tea towel weft within the space of a week and truly appreciate the difference between the good and the type water drips off. Northern Irish linen is second to none. NI bath towels even cover your whole body from neck to ankles. As a tall girl, sick of trying to dry myself on English face cloth size bath 'sheets', I salute them.















But never fear, the Northern Irish housewife likes a bit of glamour too.

Like a lot of UK towns, Ballymena has made some planning mistakes.










Demolishing this for example.














To make way for this















And plonking a brand spanking new museum to celebrate Ballymena's history (for which a row of Edwardian buildings were demolished)

.












Next to this! (Town Hall)





















Meantime on a main street in Belfast city centre I was shocked to see
this. What a fortune a Period city centre pad would be worth in the middle of Oxford, whatever its parlous state!