Best fun in ages

I suddenly realised going to gym was worth it last Saturday when I went tobogganing for the first time in 15 years. I know it’s tempting the devil to say I didn’t get a stiff muscle or a pulled ligament after spinning around on the steepest hill near our village for a truly joyful hour, but if you have to put up with questions like “what, at your age?” from Youngest Brother-in-law afterwards you might as well boast.

Not that the trip started off so cheerfully. Husband and Sons announced we were going up to Dry Hill. I privately thought “they’ll never get the car up there and I will go to the gym”, but I was informed I was going too, whether I liked it or not. I suppressed all comment as they tried first one hill and then another to make the assault on Dry Hill, only to find the car wheels spinning and retreat unavoidable. Privately I rehearsed the conversation we would be having with the AA: “Well, er, when you ask whether the trip was essential, Husband and Sons have a joint age of 12 and seemed to think it was. No, we didn’t bring a spade now you mention it. Yes, I do agree we are a bunch of irresponsible idiots.”

While pondering this humiliating exchange, an Alfa Romeo was seen to crest the hill. At which point uproar broke out in the car. “If HE can do it in THAT car, then our Volvo certainly can.” With Volvo’s name at stake (Youngest Brother-in-law sells Volvos so we have standards to uphold) Sons heaved the car out. And we made it – to find a cheerful group of 20 or so who had got there before us, including one party with a picnic set. Only in Britain you might think. Best fun in ages.

Panic buying?

I think there are times Prime Ministers should give us all a good ticking off. And now is just such a moment. Why on earth have we started panic buying food? Confronting the empty egg and bread shelves on Saturday I recalled the dismal days back in the seventies when – for reasons I can’t now remember – we had regular salt and sugar shortages. I was at the time the Consumer Affairs reporter for the Croydon Advertiser – no laughter please, the Croydon Ad is an admirable title. It was a job I was very bad at, as it happens, and from which I escaped with the Editor’s agreement after only a few weeks because I found hanging around supermarkets indescribably tedious. But I was infuriated then by the whole idiocy of stockpiling. Then and now, most of it is being done by people who are not at any risk of being marooned. Once the supermarkets said “two bags each only” it all stopped. As Husband grimly observed on Saturday, the trouble with irrational shoppers is that the only rational response is to start doing same. Can we please all STOP?

Ferrets in a sack

If you ever doubted that it's governments who lose elections, may I present in evidence the events of last week? Just as the Conservatives are getting into a spot of bother over their policy on marriage after their New Year pre-election launch, a coup attempt against the Prime Minister by two former Cabinet ministers hits the headlines, and Hey Presto Labour have started the year just exactly as their opponents would hope, fighting each other like ferrets in a sack.

By the way, I don't go along with all this Dumb & Dumber stuff about Hoon and Hewitt. Senior Parliamentarians of their type - ie publicly very loyal - just don't launch a coup attempt against a sitting Prime Minister unless they are (a) desperate to see something happen and (b) believe that they have some backing. Their actions just highlight the profound malaise within. Cameron can certainly breathe a sigh of relief. Labour let him off the hook.

A happy and healthy New Year!

Did you bin 2009 with relish or look back at a particularly happy year?

At the party where we all grouped according to our view of it, my sister-in-law and I immediately 'binned' the year as both of us had discovered we had medical conditions requiring rather urgent treatment. Afterwards, I felt guilty. Indeed, I thought in reality I should view it as a lucky year because when I needed them those amazing doctors were there, telling me to stay calm and just let them get on with sorting me out. Which they did.

This isn't just a way of thanking them - although I do very much want to thank them - but also to remind me and others of things we overlook in the UK. The unusual condition I had was only 'discovered' some 30 years ago - by experts in this country, who also developed and then improved the treatment. The hospital where most of this work was done still provides expert diagnostics and advice for consultants treating patients with it. Was I humbled? Yes. And, yes, it did also dawn on me that in many (most?) parts of the world this wouldn't have happened.

We are a very argumentative nation. One of the key points put to me years ago by a favourite history teacher is that we are constantly complaining - our politicians rarely get lionised, in fact we rarely have a good word to say fro them until they retire, or die. Her point was that this is actually a great strength - we don't often do uncritical acclaim and this helps maintain a free society. But we do also take it too far - there's a time to recognise that sometimes the services we recieve, the thought and managerial skill behind them, as well as our trained front-line staff, can be amazing. So just as the battlelines are drawn up for a very important election, and we prepare for a positive fest of complaining and whingeing about everything, I just want to put on the record - apolitically of course, this is a totally apolitical statement - that last year I was deeply grateful to all those people whose names I will never know but who together took decisions on research and treatment which meant that years later, when I popped up on the radar, a lot of other people knew just what to do. Underneath it all most of us do - at least occasionally! - realise what a fine country this is.