HENRY Allingham insisted on standing on his own two feet. How unlike Mike Blake. Mr Allingham is 108 years old, the oldest survivor of the World War I soldiers. At the ceremony last week to mark the 90th anniversary of the start of the war, Mr Allingham, frail and bemedalled, struggled from his wheelchair, determined to place his wreath personally on the cenotaph. It was one way in which he could honour the memory of all those friends and comrades who sacrificed their lives in another world, another century, another age.

Meanwhile, here in the 21st century Mike Blake is 19. He and his wife have four children, another on the way and he also fathered another when he was 13. The family lives on benefits - £1,150 a month in benefits and a rent-free council house. Mike has been offered work but has refused it because he is better off being supported by the rest of us.

Although he seems to be a caring father, the idea of standing on his own feet is clearly foreign to him. He looks after his children but sees no reason why he should support them too. Benefits do it better.

What was intended as a safety net has become a lifestyle choice. And who can blame Mike Blake?

He didn't invent the system. And if his family is better off with him not working, then there is something very wrong with the system and you can see the logic of staying at home and looking after the kids.

And Mike is 19. He has grown up in a world where the idea of taking responsibility for our own actions has become increasingly alien. There is always someone else to blame, someone else to pick up the pieces, someone else to sue. Wherever the buck stops, it's rarely with us.

Meanwhile Henry Allingham and his few remaining comrades - all over 100 years old - have seen and experienced horrors that the rest of us can barely imagine even in our worst nightmares. Yet they believe in honour and bravery and self-reliance and doing the right thing, whatever the sacrifice.

They are very old men. But let us hope they live a while longer yet - for they still have a lot to teach us.

EVERY Monday they bounce into the office - bronzed and fit, smiling happily and full of chat about beautiful beaches, bars, wonderful little restaurants or luxurious pools. They might even have a few photos to show you, or even a present, maybe a box of real Turkish Delight , Devon toffees or duty free biscuits.

Yes, they're people back from holiday. That bright-eyed alertness gives them away, that air of relaxation and wellbeing as they catch up with the gossip.

And it lasts about two hours. By lunchtime they are slumped over their desks like everyone else, their energy faded, their tan already vanishing under office pallor, the pool, the beach, the bar just a distant memory as they work their way through the pile of junk that's accumulated in the previous two weeks.

That's the trouble with holidays - you need another holiday to get over them.