A most interesting debate in the House of Commons today. Clarifying the situation, it appears the police were initially perceived they were dealing with a public order problem and too slowly realised the situation had turned into an overall criminality. Slowness of initial appropriate response is clearly understood in the sensitivity of an incident in which subsequent enquiries indicate the possibility the police acted wrongly and then the situation mushroomed and the police took too long to realise what was happening. Now, where else do you get senior police chiefs acknowledging that they took too long to get the matter under control and to respond efficiently, so soon and so openly?
It also seems Parliament and the public mood is swinging back to the issue I raised in my first post in this thread: too many people are concerned about their rights in society instead of their responsibilities to society! Peter S.
Well we may not do a lot of things right in Illinois; but we sure know how to handle young rioters. We could handle this situation quickly. But the fact that we are so experienced in this type of thing is sad.
I'm sure it was safe where she went Libby. Thames embankment and some gardens. No shops to loot there, and hence no rioting.
It was probably more dangerous where I went today, there was trouble about 2 miles away last night. My son was there, he saw them trying to break the windows of a shop selling designer clothing, and then succeed in breaking into the tailor next door. They didn't find anything to their liking there though, so left empty-handed.
The most disturbing think is that a policeman told him that they would not move to protect him if the gang of youths barring his path attacked him. So he went a different way. The police had apparently been ordered not to do anything to stop the riots. Why were they there then? I suppose to record evidence for future prosecution. I'm beginning to wonder why I, as a taxpayer, bother to pay for a police force who seem more interested in prosecuting safe drivers than in catching criminals.
I think the problems are a bit deeper. When I was at school I was scared of my teachers because they carried a cane and were allowed to hit you and we had to stand when they entered the room as a mark of respect. I was also scared of the local policeman because he could give you a clip round the ear as well and I was also scared of my father because he could take a belt to you as well.
Nowadays teachers are scared of the kids. I heard a headmistress on the radio who said they had to be gentle (her word) with unruly pupils in case their parents went round to the school and confronted the staff. The police are shackled by political correctness (children have human rights the same as adults !) and fathers are often absent.
I think the problems are a bit deeper. When I was at school I was scared of my teachers because they carried a cane and were allowed to hit you and we had to stand when they entered the room as a mark of respect. I was also scared of the local policeman because he could give you a clip round the ear as well
I wouldn't say I was ever scared of my teachers - respected them, yes (most of the time! i.postimg.cc/9fYxy370/smilie-big-grin.gif) we also had to stand when a teacher entered the classroom - we were also required to say "Good morning Miss or Mr Whatever". It was the norm and therefore accepted. In my pre-teens my parents knew most of the local bobbies and being marched home by one of them was a sure fire way to ensure that you would not be getting that special goods wagon for your train set you were hoping for the next time mum went shopping!
Interesting the diversity of school experiences! My life was filled with glorious characters but we still respected them. There was Spud, looked just like a double potato, knew he was called spud and had an ancient car whose battery was frequently flat in the winter. When it wouldn't go, he used to stand in the middle of the playground and yell "Spud needs a push!" and a bevy of boys would get his car going with him in it finally waving out of the window "Thanks Chaps" as the car stuttered and exploded along its way.
Then there was Sammy Wright. A scientist who did not believe in God but before he retired took the cloth for tax purpose. "Being a priest I can be paid for the job and still draw my pension" was the explanation. He had a habit of throwing a heavy scout clasp knife at you. One occasion when I was being singularly stupid and he was behind me he wanted to know where I thought Adelaide was. I got it wrong. "Fool boy its there!" Clasp knife comes whizzing over my shoulder, right between two of my fingers, straight through the atlas and into the desk where it vibrated wildly---and also slap bang through the centre of Adelaide. I can still remember where Adelaide is--its somewhere in Australia I believe!
Perhaps fortunately the throwing of scout knives suddenly ended when he threw one down the length of the classroom at the hapless boy supposedly demonstrating on the backboard. Unfortunately we had changed classrooms that day for some emergency repair and he was facing the last remaining slate board in the school. It shattered.
"Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear". Then he walked to the window and looking out remarked that is was a lovely sunny day and "if we had the rest of the after-noon off no one would know how the blackboard got broken would they?" "No sir!" chorused the entire class. "Then b******* well p*** orff!" We scarpered. We assumed he must have owned up with some vaguely rational tale because no announcement was made by the head the next morning wanting to know who had broken the blackboard and Sammy saw his retirement out as scheduled.
Leaving school was for me the first truly traumatic experience of my life, school was a home from home, not that at home we threw scout knives at one another or the family car ever needed a push. The car didn't dare argue with my father any more than I did! Reflecting, perhaps I may have had a charmed life, they were certainly happy days. Sorry if I have waxed too lyrically. I'm having a clear out and thinking on a family compilation or possibly an autobiography, although, if too scandalous I may have to turn it into a novel!
However, in case I've pushed Richard's patience too much, is it the case those of my generation--the war boom babies--were lucky? Rationing, doing without, utility furniture, difficulty in gaining credit, broken homes literally in bombed out areas of London still bombed out when I visited on business. Today we are in a depression caused by excessive debt but over-burdened with cheap choices and freely available goods and no sense of personal accountability. My childhood was one of mutual respect, clear boundaries and a sense of complete freedom. The world seemed to be my oyster and what I wanted I could have if I worked for it. Where did it all go so wrong. BUT, having been a councillor and mayor of my home town I know for a fact there are some wonderful inspiring young people of diverse family experiences who are an inspiration to be with. No special talents to mark them out, just normal down-to-earth 'everyday' young people.
Last Edit: Aug 13, 2011 16:35:31 GMT by postscript
Her eyes were the blue of cornflowers that dance amongst ripening wheat, Her hair the colour of golden sands bleached by summer's heat.
Sounds like your school days were lots of fun. I think mine were somewhat charmed considering some of the things I got away with i.postimg.cc/9fYxy370/smilie-big-grin.gif I clearly remember sixth form Friday lunchtimes in the Waggon & Horses until that fateful day when a booming voice behind bellowed "Sir will have a half and don't let me catch you in here again!" Later, in college, we had a boring old professor for bookkeeping. It was hard to stay awake let alone learn anything. He wore sports jacket and flanels and smoked a pipe and forgot to properly extinguish the latter on one ocassion such that part way into the lesson his pocket began to smoulder!
Oh happy days!
Kids these days though - I don't know One young lad during the recent riots told a reporter that he wouldn't get into trouble for taking home stolen goods; and another 13 year old was given a machete for his birthday!
Yes, I remember it well. I remeber one RE lesson (do they still teach RE, in my day is was just about the only compulsory subject) Johnny, who was sitting by the open window made a sarcastic comment. The teacher, clearly incensed, threw a Bible at him. Johnny ducked. The Bible sailed through the open window, descended three stories and landed at the feet of the deputy head who was walking below.
THen there was the time the prefects went on strike. And the strange plywood "spider" (we called it a "spon") that descended on a string in the school hall during assembly one day (I know who did that - he shall foever remain anonymous but the was the son of one of the teachers).
And the hangmans noose we kept in the prefects detention room, just to give the right impression. And the day we set a a buch of detentees to work, cutting the grass of our multi-acre football pitches with small pairs of scissors.
Then there were the school busses... Well, I'll say no more.
Lots of innocent fun though. Do they do things like that these days? I doubt it, is all seems so much nastier.