DID no one even speak to him?

A five-year-old boy wanders away from his mum in the centre of Glasgow, gets on a train and turns up in Macclesfield nearly four hours later - and nobody has said a word to him or expressed an iota of concern.

Are we that uncaring? Unwilling to be involved? Or are we all scared that we might be mistaken for paedophiles? And is that more important than a child's safety?

Whatever the reason, it's a pretty grim picture of modern life.

The good news is that little Shabaaz Iqbal survived his journey safe and sound. Clearly a self-assured little boy, he eventually realised that the train wasn't going to take him home so he got off at Macclesfield and looked for a policeman and was eventually reunited with his distraught mother. Which presumably proves that the rumours of a paedophile on every street corner are possibly exaggerated.

But there are other dangers for a small child alone, not least traffic, accidents or simply getting lost and frightened.

Were there no concerned mothers, fussy grannies or New Men on the train idly wondering about the solitary little boy?

A Virgin spokesman said the conductor didn't speak to him because Shabaaz looked as though he was under five and so didn't need a ticket.

Well, that's alright then.

The things is, it's happened before. Earlier this year, my husband and some of his footballing cronies were on a Virgin train to Birmingham when a seven-year-old boy wandered along and chatted to them. Eventually, thanks mainly to gentle questioning by former Spennymoor junior school headmaster and international referee George Courtney, they realised the boy was on his own, informed the conductor, who informed the police and he was taken off the train and back home to his mum in Rotherham.

Another happy ending. But what if...?

It's not that long ago since it was impossible for any child to go anywhere without being questioned by nosy adults. Complete strangers asked you about school, or told you to mind your manners, take your feet off the seat, sit up straight. Old ladies in particular felt free to cross-examine you about who you were and where you were going and who your parents were.

If they liked the answers, you got an ancient sweet that usually smelt of face powder from a capacious bag. If they didn't, they threatened to tell your mum, or your school, or the police, or all three. And possibly your granny as well.

It would have been very, very difficult for a small child to travel so far without someone wanting to know why. But now our children have been taught to fear all strangers as potential attackers. And adults - especially men - are wary of having their good intentions misunderstood.

It has bred an attitude of mistrust and probably hasn't made any child a jot safer. Quite the reverse, in fact.

When James Bulger was abducted from that shopping centre and led away by the two boys, a couple of people stopped and asked what they were up to. Thompson and Venables had plausible answers and so were able to go on to kill the toddler..

One of the women has since said she wished - oh how she wished - she'd asked more questions, taken more interest, found out what exactly was going on.

But now - even knowing what happened there - instead of being more vigilant, more inclined to interfere and ask questions or even just strike up conversations - we're less likely than ever to notice wandering children.

Shabaaz was lucky. The next child might not be.

Be nosey.

IF you haven't been yet, then get yourself to the Baltic in Gateshead.

Not necessarily for the exhibitions which are, shall we say, on the challenging side of original, but if only for the views.

From the fifth floor of the Baltic you can see up and down the Tyne and all across Newcastle. On a clear day it's a magical sight.

Best of all, it opens up a panoramic view of Newcastle Quayside - all those warehouses that are now wine bars and restaurants.

Then you can stroll across the splendid Millennium Bridge and go and sample a few of them.

I go to Newcastle regularly, know it quite well. But last week was a revelation, seeing it, literally, from a new angle. It felt like spending a day in a foreign city.

And no, that wasn't just because of the wine.

HALF of the nation's papers are full of recipes for Christmas puddings, cocktails, cranberry mincemeat, home-made sweets, biscuits and lots and lots and lots of party food, most of which is somewhat fattening, to say the least.

The other half is exhorting us to "go down two dress sizes for Christmas".

Tricky to manage both. And they wonder why so many teenage girls develop bulimia.

Published: 04/12/2002