“Breaking speculation” interrupted the, er, “breaking speculation” as to who or what might be responsible for the tragic deaths in Norway. The media had moved on.  No longer were they lovingly arranging pictures of 92 clean living but dead Norwegians, they had more exciting pictures to broadcast.

“Amy Winehouse found dead!” Gosh, now there’s a Google keyword to conjure with, towing a whole host of other keywords, heroin addiction, drink fuelled orgies, the dangers of cigarette smoking, tattoos, devoted ex-husbands performing their marital duty from a prison cell, (along with his new ‘squeeze’ sitting in the marital home nursing new baby, helpfully throwing in her ten pennorth), quick name check on the present on-off shag moping disconsolately outside the million pound house that being a tattooed, heavy smoking, drug taking, drunk with an incredible voice, wrought husky by emphysema, can bring you.

She had caught the media on the hop too, they had settled in for a long wallow in the frothy waters of ‘despicable’ racial hatred, terrorism, and the Al Qaeda recruiting programme. With a short order of English Defence League on the side.

They reacted fast, despatching a lone blonde to stand outside the house and try to whip up a sense of excitement around the half dozen people who had stopped to see what the police were up to.

They looped the film continuously; it took half an hour before they had drummed up enough business to call it a ‘gathering crowd’. Meanwhile, clutching at straws, they had Michelle ‘I only actually met her twice’ Gayle on the line to offer her speculation as to how she had died, when she had died, who she had been with, whether her parents had been informed – ‘I’ve spoken to someone who knows someone who they think may have told her Father’…only three points removed? The researchers must have been thrilled with that one.

Those who had been thrilled by her verbal warbling that she wouldn’t go to Rehab, No, no, no, and who had been waiting patiently for her to recreate that album, turned up bearing gifts of more fags – keep stoking that emphysema laden voice – more booze, and probably ‘worth sorting through the teddy bears for more class ‘A’ drugs’, presumably to reassure their heroine that she needn’t give up the Heroin in heaven either. No, no, no!

Within an hour they had managed to throw in the keyword names of half a dozen other drug addled young people who had died at the same age, interspersed with an occasional foray to inspect the bloody wounds inflicted by the Norwegian mass murderer.

The remote control was the other side of the room from me, Mr G down the garden; I couldn’t avoid this depressing diet of the end of the world as we knew it.

Then the phone rang – an old, old friend, and long time commentator. Saul. We are of the same vintage, as are many commentators on this site; the ‘baby boomers’. The post war children. We discussed the present news, the ‘worst of times’ as it were. Then we started making a list of the ‘best of times’.

It is true; we have had the best of times. We were born into the infant NHS, coddled and cosseted, fed our Cod Liver Oil and School milk, encouraged to be bonny babies; went to Sunday school when that was still the norm, played out in the street without fear, allowed to be children. We walked alone to schools sometimes miles away, to find teachers who were dedicated to the task of filling our heads with knowledge, we returned to Mothers (one or two exceptions here!) who strove to fill our bellies with nourishing food.

We grew up to be the first teenagers, to taste independence in the heady days of hot pants and the Beatles warbling ‘I want to hold your hand’ – such innocence.

By the time we were ‘of age’ the pill had been invented, we enjoyed the early days of ‘free love’ without the dangers that now lurk.

We came of age to find ourselves in Universities, new careers open to women; mortgages offered to all who could save the deposit, regardless of gender. Our elders could only look on with envy. Most of us have ridden the housing boom with ease; some of us still have ‘final salary’ pensions.

We truly have been an extraordinarily lucky generation, probably the most blessed that has ever existed – and it behoves us sometimes to reflect on that as we look on with horror at the world in which the young must grow up today.

Now that the media have taken on the mantle of bearers of speculation and idle gossip, perhaps the blogs, who have always been true purveyors of facts as far as I was concerned, will leave them to it.

So, in that vein, feel free to add to the list of factual good fortune that we have enjoyed in the comments, and let’s turn the sound down on that endless, depressing, speculation.

Gloria Smudd
July 25, 2011 at 19:39

My elder brothers used to tack together bits of old wood and pram wheels to
make what we called ‘a bogey’ (go-cart to you Southerners). Somewhere in the
family albums is a b/w photo of a 2-year-old Les Dawson lookalike clinging on
for dear life and squealing with glee as she was hurtled along uneven
flagstones at the kind of breakneck speed only boys in tank-tops and school
shorts can achieve!

Once our mother made them take me with them on one of their den-making
days; they promptly said we were playing cowboys and indians and I had been
captured and had to be tied to the tree. Then they went away.

Robert Edwards
July 25, 2011 at 17:43

First of all, Anna, what a beautifully-written, elegaic piece. No surpise
that it takes someone who is coming through what you have come through to put
a whole weekend’s worth of headlines into cogent perspective.

I have two female reptiles, both in their early 20′s and, naturally I meet
their boyfriends. When I describe my childhood and they compare and contrast,
I come to the following conclusions. I was born in 1955…

Things I miss:

The memory of buggering off all day with a pack lunch, some jam-jars and a
fishing rod to catch whatever was silly enough to take the bait; finding a
confused hedgehog (where are they now?) and, absently putting it in my blazer
pocket, where it went to sleep until my late mother, searching for grubby
snotrags, disturbed it; being ordered to take it back to where I found it.
Going to see ‘Lawrernce of Arabia’ with my Grandfather; going through a slight
lefty phase at 14 (1968 – when else?) and, in clear response, being given a
first edition of ‘The Great Terror’ by my late father, a serving Army Officer.
It was already well-thumbed. My first car, a Sunbeam, which cost £15. I had to
borrow a tractor to tow it out of a pond. It lasted me through University. My
first bonk. Post-Pill and Pre-Aids.

Stuff I don’t miss:

Being brought up in a war-zone – Malaya. The snakes occasionally found in
the kitchen (although the Tiger in the garden was memorable); and the sight of
our cook turning an octopus inside out in the kitchen sink. The sight of a
poor Chinese plantation manager, who I had seen only the previous week, tied
to a rubber tree with all his limbs hacked off. The distant gunfire and crump
of grenades. We had no money. (Acually, I have mixed feelings about that…)

I don’t envy modern youth; they live Pasteurised lives, deodorised and
indirect. Too many of their opinions are received and there is a general sense
of entitlement loose in the Land which sits ill with me. The frequent response
from my putative sons-in-law to my remeniscences is: “But you can’t do that
these days…”

So, one hangs on to good and bad…

wh00ps
July 25, 2011 at 17:00

I spent the day at the wedding of my sister-in-law. It was a lovely day,
and best still my phone had a bad battery day, so I was blissfully unaware of
the continuing story from Norway and Amy Winehouse until got home.
There IS
still loveliness in the world, but you won’t find it on the television.

Joe Public July 25, 2011 at 16:56

With an absolute lack of Health & Safety, Risk Analyses, and, CRB
checks on those who helped / trained / taught / mentored / coached us, it’s a
bloody miracle we survived.

alanx July 25, 2011 at 15:58

Ahh, but the bad side: “we shall make aristocracies for ourselves” is a
paraphrase from Playpower, and that’s exactly what King Louis the 33 and a 3rd
did with him and his chums, grrrr.

alanx July 25, 2011 at 15:56

Amsterdam in the 70′s. People actually reading books – even those with a
thug tendency devoured actual novels about skinheads, bikers or whatever.

Smaller but more powerful media, the entire nation under the sway of Doctor
Who, the exciting buzz on the bus. Cathy Come Home rocking the nation. Simply
wearing long hair and a kaftan making you a genuine threat to the state.

jim
July 25, 2011 at 14:06

Lovely piece of writing. Hits the spot perfectly.

woodsy42 July 25,
2011 at 12:27

We have been thankfully the first generation in some time to avoid being
embroiled in a war. There have been too many of course, and we should not
forget them, but they have not affected most civilians.
The freedom to
travel and especially to communicate. As a child we didn’t have a phone, now
we have the internet and our generation enjoyed its golden years. I have met
so many lovely people via the internet and made numerous close friends, I
would never have known them otherwise. The exposure to thoughts and ideas is
way beyond any previous generations.
Yes – as the Enginner says, the
availability of good tools!

JDR July 25, 2011 at 12:26

As someone born in the early 50s, it all rings true – we had freedom !
…

Walking to School in Glasgow for miles, from before I was 5 years old, and
playing anywhere we liked – all without let or hindrance or worry …

In the 60s, wearing a 6″ sheath knife strapped to the belt of my Boy Scout
uniform (in Partick !), and getting a nod of approval from our local Policeman
– whereas today I’d be arrested ! …

Bikes – ah yes – long Sunday trips by 3 or 4 of us – sandwiches and ‘pop’
and perhaps a tennis ball with us – parents neither knew where we were nor
worried about it …

View from the
Solent July 25, 2011 at 11:41

“.. ‘Saturday Club’ and Radio Luxembourg on 208MW. ”
And then, C’s Cat,
the pirate stations came along and blew them out of the water. What joy to be
alive!

Caedmon’s
Cat July 25, 2011 at 13:10

Radio Caroline and Radio London! Yes, oh yes! But as I recall, Radio
Luxembourg ran for good a number of years after the demise of the pirate
radio stations. The beauty of it was that unlike the pirates, the signal
from Luxembourg was consistently strong.

Single
Acts Of Tyranny July 25, 2011 at
11:31

I am going to take issue on this one. Sure young people have challenges
today, like they always have, but they do not have the likely threat of
nuclear destruction hanging over their heads and thanks to the internet,
people like Rothbard, von Mises, Rand etc are a click away.

I recall having how good FDR was for America drummed into me in geography
in school in the late 1970′s (so you can see the agenda). Today, I could
search out Tom Woods on youtube and bust the Tennessee Valley authority in
about two minutes.

I bought my first car, these days it’s get your GCSE’s and expect one from
the ‘rents and a ticket around the world for a year. I can picture my dad’s
response had I said to him at 18 “Dad, I fancy going to South East Asia for a
year to get drunk, mooch around and bang the hookers, so er, get your cheque
book out”

Then of course there is the virtual guarantee of a place at University and
the strong likelihood of a good inheritance if the ‘rents don’t need long term
care.

Don’t even start me on social media, Hmmm…. in my day….etc we had to
actually talk to girls we liked rather than facebook or texting them. Cheap
flights mean weekends in a Euro capital are in reach as never before, ditto
skiing. As a youngster, Prince Charles and Lady Di went on winter holidays,
these days they are school trips.

Now I will grant you, the music is appalling, but the opportunities of
today are manifest and bountiful to those who can think for themselves. I
would be 18 today rather than 18 in 1984 as I was.

ivan July 25, 2011 at 11:55

Your last paragraph says it all those who can think for
themselves

How many of today’s children are actually taught to THINK? It appears to
be very few.

Single Acts Of Tyranny July 25, 2011 at 19:36

Fair point. My friend’s daughter, (who got about 65 A stars at GCSE)
simply cannot do so. In what I still call the sixth form, they had to do
voluntary work, ie compulsory, voluntary work, ie slavery.

I told her not to do this under any circumstances. She said she had to
in order to get taught A levels. I pointed out it was her parents ample
taxes that paid the teacher not six hours in a charity shop or whatever.
She said someone in authority had told her she must (ie the teacher). I
said compulsory unpaid work was slavery and entirely unethical and she
MUST resist with every fibre of her being. Damn them to expel you etc.

She (and shamefully her parents) just shrugged and went back to
X-Factor.

State education produces compliant sheep.

Saul July 25, 2011 at 10:58

I might add, that wasn’t a bought bike, but one built from scratch with the
help of my father.

Hysteria July 25, 2011 at 10:52

goring – ground – meh !

Hysteria July 25, 2011 at 10:51

this blog has an almost uncanny knack (sp?) of getting to the truth of it
in very few words…….

What the Engineer said (especially on tools – who would have thought it? A
laser guided circular saw !)

And Saul – that’s it too! – hours on a bicycle going wherever with no
concerns at all –

For me – I guess climbing to the top of a HUGE tree and clinging to a
wildly swaying branch shouting to the fellow oiks on the goring – ” Hey – you
can just see the Boston Stump from here…..” (the tree was in Stamford..!)

Caedmon’s
Cat July 25, 2011 at 10:46

Long bike rides with pals, coffee bars, playing around with tape recorders,
learning guitar, flying kites, the Beatles and the Stones.. ‘Saturday Club’
and Radio Luxembourg on 208MW. I remember the 60s – and contrary to the
popular saying, I WAS there. Good – yea – idyllic times, to be sure. Memories
I’m very glad I’ve got.

Saul July 25, 2011 at 10:30

I used to like disappearing first thing in the morning, on my bike, armed
only with a flask of orange juice and some spam sandwiches and not returning
until nightfall.

Bliss.

Old Slaughter
July 25, 2011 at 10:28

Music…

You got The Who I got Westlife.

Saw a poster recently. £1 for Jimi, The Pink Floyd and Soft Machine at the
UFO.

Yes Winehouse was good, special in fact, but Jimi?

Engineer July 25, 2011 at 10:16

I wonder (given one of the themes of this most excellent blog) whether many
of the things you’ve listed could be summarised by the word ‘freedom’. Sure,
there are limits to freedom imposed by the contents of one’s wallet and by
social pressures, but more people than ever before have been able to enjoy
peace and security, the opportunity to make their own choices in how they
lived life, and the freedom to think for themselves, and express themselves,
than perhaps at any time in recorded history. Quite a thought that,
actually…

I’d like to add a couple of very minor ‘factual good fortunes’ that have
given me much pleasure and contentment. The first is the increasing
availability of really fine tools, because I like making things, and using the
best tools encourages me to make things to higher standards. The second is
that rare beacon of sublime excellence in broadcasting – Test Match Special.
It’s a sort of reminder of all that can be best in humanity – competition with
mutual respect, good humour, companionship and chocolate cake.

Anna
Raccoon July 25, 2011 at 10:24

What a beautiful comment.

Engineer
July 25, 2011 at 16:08

Thank you, Anna – but the inspiration was provided by your original
post.

Saul July 25, 2011 at 10:28

And lashings of Ginger beer.

Châtelaine July 25, 2011 at 09:44

Bonjour, Anna
Excellent
reflections, thanks. Just what I needed this morning: count my blessings …