AT the newsagent's this week, I overheard talk about the photographs of Pope John Paul II's body lying in state at the Vatican, which were all over the front pages.

"I don't think it's right, seeing him like that. It must be upsetting for children," said one woman. "I suppose it's their way. But I don't like to see it," replied another.

Given that this is the Irish way too, I am used to it. So it hadn't occurred to me that anyone would find it awkward, or distasteful. But in England, we are not used to seeing pictures of dead bodies in our newspapers or on our TV screens, especially not those of identifiable public figures.

When the Queen Mother died, thousands filed past a sealed coffin, surrounded by flowers, to pay their last respects. When Winston Churchill lay in state, his coffin was draped in the Union flag. Because this is "the way".

I can understand why the thought of seeing the dead body horrifies many people. I remember feeling repulsed myself as my seven-year-old friends vividly described their first "wake" to me, following the death of a teacher nun at their Catholic primary school.

All the children were made to file past her body and they were encouraged to touch or kiss her as the nuns said it would stop them having nightmares. It did. I was the only one who had macabre dreams, the unseen spectre of death left to run riot in my imagination.

I was soon to come face to face with the reality of death at further wakes, including my grandmother's. And the reality was nowhere near as terrifying as those imaginary pictures in my head. Death was not perceived as shameful or distasteful. There was no mystery, only a healthy acceptance.

When I first saw a human corpse, cold and empty, it was the absence of life that was the most striking thing. I knew the spirit, the very essence of that person, had gone and that what was left behind was now a meaningless, inanimate shell. The human soul had never seemed so real.

Viewed in this way, death is very much a part of life. And we are reminded that life is a transient and fragile thing. Pope John Paul II told us death was nothing to fear. If only we could all learn to look it so squarely in the face.

AS the mother of five enthusiastic young football fans, I find Newcastle United's decision to let Lee Bowyer off with just a fine for attacking another player on the pitch deeply offensive. The club is driven by commercial self-interest. But what excuse do the police have? Hundreds of officers at the match witnessed what 50,000 fans saw. Bowyer clearly dealt at least one blow to Kieron Dyer's head. For such a vicious crime, in full view of the public, justice must be seen to be done. The behaviour and language children are exposed to in the stands is bad enough. But what is happening on the pitch is turning this so-called beautiful game into a truly ugly one.

THE latest craze for charity bracelets with good cause messages, which sell in shops for £1 each, means they are now changing hands for up to £3 in schools. So the good causes lose out. I am urging my boys to follow Nelson Mandela's example - tie a piece of string round their wrist and give the money directly to charity instead. It's not cool, they tell me. So why not start a trend?