4:30pm Wednesday 3rd February 2010
By Sharon Griffiths
We still want the people who lead us, or those we look up to, to be better than the rest of us.
THE trouble is that we all still believe in Roy of the Rovers... Why else would we be so concerned about John Terry?
He seems a pretty unappealing specimen and has behaved appallingly.
To his family, his teammates and anyone who gets in the way of his boorish behaviour. But then footballers often do. You give young men – often not very well educated – huge amounts of money just because they can kick a ball and of course they’ll think they’re gods and are invincible. And they get away with things because, by and large, we let them.
Presumably everyone in football knew pretty much about John Terry’s antics. They were happy for him to be England captain then, so why not now? Probably it was just because it was made public. That’s all. Which doesn’t reflect well on anyone really.
And how can the FA say anything when not so long ago there were all sorts of shenanigans going on there – of which all I can remember is that Sven Goran Ericsson wears lifts in his shoes.
For some reason we still expect footballers to set a good example and high moral standards. Why? We’re quite happy if rock stars behave abominably, that’s part of their job description. But these days half of them are saving the planet or rescuing orphans.
Meanwhile, other people who should be setting the high standards are as bad as the rest. Think Bill Clinton. Think John Major and Edwina Currie (OK, don’t). Think of the incredible self-interest, double standards and downright cheating that has gone on in the mother of parliaments, all behind the pathetic excuse that MPs didn’t realise they were doing wrong.
So... dim, as well as devious.
And don’t let’s start on the morals of the bankers. Or parts of the Catholic church. And yes, all right then, I don’t suppose journalists are above reproach.
But the interesting thing is that we all still care. Those of us whose lives probably are only a little better than the rest of them, still expect high standards from those in the public eye. Maybe we feel it’s the least they can do for their privileged place in the world. Maybe we’re just jealous that we can’t get away with it.
Or maybe we feel that somehow, that’s the way it should be. We forgive honest mistakes and occasional lapses, but we still want the people who lead us, or those we look up to, to be better than the rest of us.
It might, of course, be totally unrealistic.
But it’s still somehow touching. We might all be going to hell in a handcart but we still expect – and want – high standards.
Which is still a lot more reassuring than if none of us gave a damn.
SO when did it become a basic human right to wear summer clothes in the depth of winter?
Here I am, as the snow falls yet again, in jeans, shirt, jumper and wonderful woolly socks, doing my best to keep down the heating bill, which is in any case going to be horrendous.
Many people are genuinely worried sick about how they are going to pay after the struggle to keep warm in the recent icy spell.
Meanwhile, members of a family featured last week on a TV item about fuel poverty were wearing thin short-sleeved T-shirts. In January.
Fuel poverty is serious. Not having the wit to wear something warm in winter is just plain stupid.
TESCO, meanwhile, is banning people in pyjamas from shopping in their stores. With so much relaxed leisure wear, how can they tell? OK, maybe the fluffy slippers and sleepy eyes are a bit of a giveaway.
But if they’re going to have a dress code, I’d much rather Tesco banned the chaps in their skimpy little floppy shorts.
Always a disconcerting moment as they stretch out over the veg counter...
OK, so he didn’t win the Australian Open. He’s British, did you expect him to? But let’s give Andy Murray credit for the way he lost. Cracking match and a gracious speech. One day, it will make him a better champion. One day.
SIR Terry Pratchett, left, couldn’t actually give the Richard Dimbleby lecture himself. The version of Alzheimer’s that he has makes it difficult for him to read. Instead, he gave a brief introduction and then sat, in his trademark black hat and a sort of velvet smoking jacket, at the side of the dais while his friend, actor Tony Robinson, read Pratchett’s words.
It was a plea for assisted death. It was intelligent, funny and very moving.
And particularly timely when we have had two recent cases of mothers helping their children to die.
There was a time, said Pratchett, when we never spoke about cancer. That taboo has long gone. Now we never talk about death.
If nothing else, he has started the conversation.
NEVER mind footballers, Marks & Spencer’s new boss Marc Bolland is set to have a salary package in his first year of £15m.
At that price, he’s going to have to sell an awful lot of knickers.
NOW a quarter of women earn the same as their husbands or partners and nearly as many earn more then their men.
About time too. Girls have been receiving the same education as boys for half a century or more so it’s about time it actually led to equal money, opportunities and choice over who earns the bread and who stays home with the kids. Otherwise what was it all about?
Of course, if this trend continues we could soon see the rise of the trophy male – rich successful women not wanting an equal partner, but instead opting for a handsome little toy boy as some amusement in their leisure hours.
Sauce for the goose...
Dear Sharon,
AT a family wedding in Edinburgh last year, my 25- year-old nephew, brought up in Essex, could not read the name of the beer he was drinking.
It was Belhaven 80/-. Otherwise known as Eighty Shilling – I think from the tax that was paid on stronger beer.
He had vaguely heard of shillings, but had no idea of how they were written down or how much they had been worth, and so would be ready to believe that a bob was a pound.
I am old enough to remember farthings, with their design of a wren.
Worth a quarter of an old penny, they were worth having as you could buy a tiny sweet called a blackjack for one farthing. When farthings were phased out, you had to have at least ha’penny for sweets but that bought you two blackjacks.
Not much inflation then!
Gerald Hurst, Darlington
■ We’ve just checked. You can still buy blackjacks but they now cost £12 for 400, which is 3p each – more than 25 times as much as Gerald was paying in his youth.
Dear Sharon,
SOME years ago our church was host to a group of children from Chernobyl. Thinking that the lively young teacher who had accompanied them would enjoy a bit of “retail therapy” we took her to the
MetroCentre. This was a big mistake. She was terrified of the place and the size of the shops. In Asda and Marks & Spencer, she asked us how we ever decided on what to have to eat.
However, she loved our corner Spar shop as this was big enough for her to have lots to look at and admire, but small enough to cope with.
I understand things have changed dramatically in Russia since then but I wonder if that teacher ever got used to the choice available. She would certainly agree that we have too much.
Joan Windsor, Durham
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