Après Nous, Le Déluge...

The biggest problem with writing a blog without a central topic or purpose is that sometimes finding a theme for the evening's post is a bit fraught if one simply has either run dry of ideas, or, as tonight, I've got a complex idea that I'm simply too tired to explore at present. I'll return to what I'm mulling over at the moment at a later date, methinks. Anyhow, Jane has just opened the door to the living room so that I can hear a Proms performance of 'Mars' from Holst's Planet Suite. This immediately brought to mind morning assemblies at my infant/junior school in the 1950/60s, where we were exposed to the most wonderful music to start the day - via the technology of a gramophone record player and loudspeaker of utilitarian grade but quite fine quality sound, that I remember fondly to this day.

Those were the glory days of post-war social living: schools provided learning, culture and physical exercise; whilst fostering a nurturing, though reasonably disciplined, environment in which for us to learn and grow. I grew up in a very working class environment in industrial Birmingham. I managed to find my way in life to where I am now - in relative comfort in the foothills of North Wales - by various means; but the era I grew up in was largely supportive and provided me with sufficient life skills and the tools for survival to rise above the bullshit and survive. Where the current generations are headed I fear to imagine: they appear from this old man's standpoint to be ill-equipped for the Wild West that beckons. That my son and his husband were born before the internet took its stranglehold over society is a blessing to both them and us...