Today, the sun has climbed aboard his golden chariot, the sky is the celestial blue of a Renaissance painting, birds are flibberty-gibbeting in trees so lush they deserve a more original adjective. A day, one might think, to be happy and carefree, to dispense with the woes of whatever there is to be woeful about. A day to rejoice that one’s heart still beats, pulse still pulses and blood still Grand Prix’s it through ones veins. Unless you happen to be Son No. 2, whose face is currently so long, he bears more than a passing resemblance to Desert Orchid. Pour quois? Simples! He didn’t listen to his Mum, didn’t heed the warning that if something sounds too good to be true, it probably is. In this case, we are referring to an X-Box bought on Amazon, an amazing ‘knock-down’ bargain. What the vendor failed to specify is that the knock-down referred not to the price, but to the recipient, when they found no leads, battery pack or any of the associated paraphernalia one might expect to make it work was actually included. A salutary lesson learned the hard way. But, Son No. 2 is not the only one to have woken up and smelled the con-artist. I’ve learned a lesson too and that is not to bother dispensing any more pearls of wisdom. The fact is the only voice most people listen to is the voice of bitter experience. Their own experience! As a parent, of course, I felt it my bounden duty to try and instil the wisdom of Caveat Emptor in the fruit of my womb, if only to spare him the disappointment of X-Boxes sans accoutrements. But like said X-Box, it didn’t work. However, he will not make that mistake again. But, looking at the balance sheet, I suppose he’s gained more than he’s lost; in the debit column, £70.00 and scales lost from his eyes and, in the credit column, invaluable experience.
The gospel according to our primary schools!
Picture this, two kids, seven years old. The first, ‘our Wayne’ plumps his plump bottom down in front of the TV or X Box every day, moving only to get himself to the table for his pepperoni-pizza with extra calories. The second, ‘our Alfie’ is outside every moment he can get, training like Shergar, (before Shergar went AWOL), in an effort to get fit for ye olde school sports day. Said sports day arrives. Three, two, one and they’re off, little legs going like pistons, mums and dads cheering them on from the sidelines (sticking out a leg accidentally on purpose to trip up the other competitors). As you would expect, our Alfie breasts the tape first with our Wayne bringing up the (or, his substantial) rear, Paddy Last (sorry if the names are getting confusing). And who would dispute that, thus far, all is right with this picture? To the victor the spoils – it was ever thus. Not anymore. Because, in these days of namby-pambyness, one apparently cannot have losers, only winners. Bang, goes our Alfie’s moment of sweet victory, his triumphant trouncing of his tiny adversaries, as his teacher announces ‘we are all winners here’. Newsflash, Miss Lottie-ol-nonsense, no we’re not and no amount of misguided political-correctness will make it so. In all walks of life, there are winners and losers and telling our kids otherwise is actually doing them a disservice. What’s to say that our Wayne won’t grow up to be a champion , I don’t know, pie-eater or something. How would he like it, if our Alfie came along and snatched victory from his jaws (having swallowed but a mere morsel himself). We can’t all excel at everything and that’s okay, a good thing even. Maybe coming in Paddy Last will inspire our Wayne to up his game next time round. Maybe he doesn’t give a monkeys one way or the other. But, let’s not fool the child, last is last, and let’s not taint our Alfie’s achievement by putting it on a par with everyone else. He has a right to be proud. So, to all the misguided bleeding-heart types who insist on feeding such drivel to our children, let me pose this question. Do you think at the end of World War II Churchill put his arm around Hitler’s neck and said ‘don’t worry, Heil, we’re all winners here’. For heaven’s sake, in only a matter of months we will be hosting the Olympic games, where traditionally there are winners and losers. Get over it! The competitors will! And, next time, the roles might well be reversed.