Friday 12 June 2009

It would never have happened in my day

I used to think grown-ups talked rubbish. Especially the ones who went on about how everything was different in their day; better; more civilised; kids were quiet; no happy-slapping.

I was convinced that the world never really changed that much - people just got older and forgot what it was like to be young.

The other day, as we sat in A&E waiting five hours to see an obstetrician (St George's has no appointment system for this), a young, wounded man burst through through the treatment room doors and asked: 'Am I dead? Am I dead though? No. Well then', before strutting off, closely followed by his police escort.

That, I thought, would never have happened in my day. Kids thumped each other, stole things and did drugs. Now they spill off the front pages of newspapers and into A&E, settling disputes with guns and knives, bragging about the mere fact of not being dead.

Not something that ever bothered me before, it just seemed too far removed from my own life. But now these people are in front of my son. My perfect, innocent son.


Is this the kind of people he'll be mixing with, or running from, if he grows up in London? Will he have to learn to swagger? Will he talk violence as if it was sport? Will he act gangster-minded when he's actually an insecure adolescent? Will he get stabbed or shot for no reason, like poor Ben Kinsella?

I love london, but sometimes I don't know if I want to bring up my boy here.

2 comments:

  1. Reposting comments left on facebook, because they're too interesting not to. Changed the setting so everyone can leave comments here, gabe
    ___________________

    Can't leave a comment on your blog, so I'll leave it here...

    Don't worry, Gabe. The Tories are on their way in. They'll sort out the Hoodlums, they're good at that. *sniggers*

    It's my opinion, that children who know the meaning of love, will grow up well. Perhaps that's a naive point of view, but in my own experience, I've known some truly nasty pieces of work that sincerely make your average Chav/Rudeboy/Hoody (not me) look like 'fookin wooftahs'. I hung around in this company, and yet I knew the difference between right and wrong, and whilst I played about with wrong, I never fell for it's charms. On the other hand, I get where your coming from about the using of weapons to resolve conflicts that were once resolved with a fist, a boot, or a broken bottle; it truly is a worrying phenomenom. And so the conservative in us all begins to blossom...hehehe. Bring on the zero tolerance.... Read More

    David Hood at 3:15pm June 12
    and we wil lendeavour to do so really soon. Hope everything is going well. It must be. You made a little human, now you get to shape him too. How cool is that?

    Give Oli my love.

    Lucy Cosens at 3:37pm June 12
    That nearly made me cry...come and live in Brighton! Go on!x

    David Hood at 4:14pm June 12
    Yeah, I can just picture Luca; gnatty dreads, dog on a string, hemp trousers, and para boots. Mind you, better than a Chav I s'pose...just...

    Elizabeth Fagan at 8:14pm June 12
    Gabe, I have been in that same situation many a time but being the one attached to said detainee.
    I always ask them to have some respect when there are children near and the response can go one of two ways as I'm sure you can imagine.

    I'm leaving soon. May I suggest Kent to you? It get's all the best sunshine and there will be a really trustworhty baby sitter on hand!! :)
    x

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  2. One word: Vancouver.
    As expensive as London with less work opportunites and no football. I imagine that beaches and mountains make up for it, with the added bonus that there's no such thing as a snowboard hooligan and riots are very rare after the boardercross nationals.

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