The Spectator.co.uk Susan Hill Blog

Nothing to do and nowhere to go

Susan Hill — 2009-11-15T21:56:59+00:00

Show me a teenager in the history of teenagers who has never been bored. Nevertheless, teenagers in the country are sometimes justified in wailing that ‘there’s nothing to do.’ But what do they need/want, can/should it be provided and is there a way to stop the few spoiling it for the rest – or is that, too, in the nature of the beast?

Depending where the young people live, the first problem is one of transport. There are more buses in the country than people suppose but they run strictly to timetable and never very late. And when at leisure, the young do not run to any timetable and do like to be out late, so until they have their own set of wheels, they are marooned, probably in a small council close on the edge of a village which has nothing for their entertainment. In the market towns, there may be a bit more – a rec. for football, a children’s playground with a couple of swings and a slide, even a youth club, though that may be linked to secondary school or church which will put it beyond the pale for

Long to reign over us

Susan Hill — 2009-11-12T07:34:10+00:00

There is not, and there certainly shouldn’t be, anything personal about being a Republican. It is the system which is at fault. Those who are part of it may or may not be admirable, impeccably mannered, kindly, self-sacrificing, dutiful, hard-working or idle, greedy, extravagant or frugal, rude, condescending or charming, pompous or puffed up or patronising, humble or modest. The Royals are a mixture, same as the rest of us. Ardent Royalists really do seem to believe these people are not as other men, that they are in some way elevated, separate and apart. ‘If you prick us, do we not bleed?’ Yes, but it’s blue.

As a lifelong Republican, perhaps I ought to be surprised at how warmly I feel towards the Queen, how greatly I admire and respect her, even how much affection I feel towards her. But I am not. It struck me forcibly again yesterday, as last Sunday, watching her stand at the Cenotaph dressed so smartly in black, and at the Westminster Abbey Armistice Day service, in purple, and with an extremely fetching hat. How many times have I thought that I didn’t want to do whatever it

Free at the point of delivery

Susan Hill — 2009-11-10T15:48:58+00:00

The NHS is in a mess, so the story goes. It cannot any longer care for you properly, it fails on every level. No, it doesn’t. Too much is spent on layers of management, it is true and there is far too much government interference with staff at the sharp end. But many of the problems the NHS faces every day, would go away if it were not for People.

People? Young, fit people should not haunt A and E in the numbers they do. Young men and women between the ages of 16 to 30 should be in a minority of those needing hospital treatment. They are not because they binge drink and then they have accidents, poison themselves and have to have their stomachs pumped out, drive dangerously and maim themselves and others – and kill them too, of course. They binge drink and fight in the streets and cause injuries both to themselves and innocent passers by. They overdose on drugs and have to be treated.

And then there are those who pour into the country bringing health problems with them, to throw themselves on the free NHS. If Obama’s

Funerals

2009-11-08T13:11:10+00:00

Funerals, a clergyman complained recently, are not what they were. Here in middle rural England they are exactly what they were. Yesterday, from eleven o’clock on you could not have parked a child’s tricycle anywhere in the village and at eleven thirty, they were standing five deep outside the church. The funeral was of a popular local man who lived just beside the lych gate, knew everybody for miles around, was a church warden and parish councillor. A blog or so back I referred to him obliquely, one of those who had died of lung cancer, a gross unfairness as he had never smoked. His funeral was on what would have been his 70th birthday. I do not know how many our church holds but it is not big, in spite of its impressive tower and grand peals of bells, but that only goes some way towards explaining why there was standing room only and the congregation overflowed, by over fifty people, into the churchyard.

It was the same last year when one of the village farmers – with a farming family going back several generations – died. The hearse drove at snail’s pace from his farm down through the

‘Hath not a Jew eyes… ?’

Susan Hill — 2009-11-05T17:07:08+00:00

It is usually, and understandably, left to Melanie Phillips to write about anti-Semitism but she needs moral support on this subject, and besides, her viewpoint is often a wider political one, involving the whole Arab-Israeli question. That hideously complex issue is not one I feel informed enough to discuss. But the less specific question of anti-Semitism, particularly in this country now, is of concern and interest to everyone and I feel qualified to write about it. Why ? Because I am a Christian.

Over the last few years, working for an MA in Theology has brought me greater understanding of just how closely the two religions are bound up, how they stem from the same root, how it is not called the ‘Judaeo-Christian tradition’ for nothing. One of the MA modules was on St Paul and in particular, what is now called ‘Paul and the New Perspective’, which is essentially, a greater awareness of how Paul, although converting to Christianity, nevertheless remained a Jew, by birth, education, culture, tradition – for him, Christianity was not so much an extension as a fulfilment of Judaism.
Every day in Christian churches somewhere, the Old Testament

Bless

2009-11-02T23:01:50+00:00

No, just listen. (From the village newsletter but I’ve changed the names.)

‘Early in the summer the children in Classes One and Two planted their own potatoes as part of a competition arranged by the Allotment Association. The children kept Potato Diaries, marking when they were planted, when they sprouted and how much they grew and making observational drawings of their potatoes, using pastels. During the recent North Cotswold Festival, the potatoes were weighed. CONGRATULATIONS to Jo, Amanda and Ruth, (all in Class Two) for their superb potato yield. Jo’s came in the heaviest at 510g, 2nd place went to Amanda (475g) and Ruth took 3rd (375g)

A display set up in the Village Hall proudly showed off the results as well as the diaries and drawings. We would like to once again thank the Allotment Association for their donation of seed potatoes and growing bags, and CountryShop for their donation of £150 towards compost and prizes. (Not forgetting to thank Mrs Jones, who kindly babysat the potatoes for the children during the summer holiday.)’

You can’t say it’s a dull world when you get this sort of thing to read of a Monday.

A picture of Middle England

Susan Hill — 2009-10-31T18:25:57+00:00

I decided to do a survey. It wouldn`t pass muster among the professionals of course and I didn`t go out into the street with a clipboard and accost passers-by, I just asked the next eight people I met locally. But it was an interestingly random selection, if you discount the fact that they all live in a village in Middle England. Three of them are retired - two comfortably so, one with an inadequate pension. One is a young mother of two whose husband works for a local builder. They live in a council house on the edge of the village, as does the next person, a hard-up single mother of two adolescent boys. The next interviewee is a local small farmer, the last a widow who sits on the council.

And I asked them the following. What do you want/need from your government, regardless of political complexion, in return for the taxes you pay and what do you not need or want. Where do you think the most money is wasted by both local and national governments ?

I was not surprised by the replies. Nor will you be and I

There's cancer - and cancer

2009-10-28T21:41:32+00:00

No respecter of persons, age, sex, or location. Cancer strikes everywhere in its manifold forms and in the last six months it has struck down three people in my community. Two were men in their early sixties and both had lung cancer, one was a woman in her fifties, who had cancer of the bowel. All three of them had the sort of final year which you would feel was not worth going through. The second they were diagnosed they were on an express train and they couldn`t get off, processed fast to Oncology, Radiotherapy, Chemotherapy without, apparently any option. They were told their lives might well be extended and perhaps they were but what is the point of that extension if it is one of misery and the enduring of ghastly symptoms? Quantity over quality doesn`t seem to me a good choice in this instance.

I doubt if any one of them had a good day since their diagnosis but they let the express train carry them on because none was the sort of person who would ever have questioned that the medics knew best.

Lung cancer has a dire survival rate, bowel is a bit better, if caught

Rural deprivation

Susan Hill — 2009-10-26T19:15:21+00:00

A friend is a dinner lady at a village school five miles away. After service was over for the day, and the children in the playground, she left her kitchen and, on returning a few minutes later, found a small boy foraging in the bin. He had half a bread roll in his hand. She shooed him out but then thought to make some enquiries. Gradually the story emerged. He and his younger sister were often said by classmates to put bits of leftover food in their pockets and to beg shares of break-time snacks. Then people reported having milk taken from doorsteps and before long, one of the children was caught running away with a full bottle.

There was a simple explanation. The children were hungry. They were sent out without breakfast or any snack in their pockets, got free school dinner and nothing for the rest of the day except a few biscuits or a bag of crisps. They were deprived in many other ways and eventually taken into care. Well, that is a familiar story of inadequate and neglectful, if not downright abusive, parents, but it shocked my rural neighbourhood

Hunting: the other face

2009-10-24T19:55:06+00:00

This is my first and will be my last comment on hunting, but it is about an aspect that needs to be highlighted because so many people outside the country – and many inside it – have either never heard of it or do not know what it is, and many believe it was banned, no longer happens and will never do so again.

I refer to that part of hunting with dogs known as Beagling – the chasing and killing of hares for sport. This has nothing to do with hare coursing, though the end result is the same. Hare coursing is a form of racing and it is indeed banned and the ban is usually followed up swiftly if the police get wind of a meeting.

For those who do not know, Beagling is exactly the same as fox hunting, with humans following a pack of dogs that are scenting out and chasing – hounding to death, an animal – only this time, a hare. The other difference is that the beaglers walk, whereas (apart from some fell hunting) fox hunters ride.

I am ambivalent about fox hunting but I