A CHANGING WORLD

We were having a bit of a moan this week. A protest against a changing world. Falling standards in customer service – poorly trained restaurant staff, the lack of a smile of welcome at the car dealership, that sort of thing. Some of this is unfair of course. There have always been people unable to raise a smile, service in restaurants and cafes has always varied from place to place, and we all have a tendency to look back at a golden age which may not have existed. We miss how things were.

I miss roads less cluttered by traffic, children able to play out with little in the way of restrictions, high streets full of independent shops, lives not dominated by technology, proper pubs with separate lounge and public bars, and a space at the bar for the red coated waiters to get your drinks. This now sounds strange but in my youth (the golden age again) you could choose the public bar where drinks were cheaper and conversation tended to involve half the room, making it a truly social space, or you could opt for the comfier lounge and pay a bit more, or even the snug for more privacy.

I conveniently forget the dark side, the persecution of homosexuals, the casual racism, the more limited opportunities for women. And, less important but a key part of everyday life, the food choices. There’s much to miss here of course – for me the traditional Yorkshire baking, the meat and potato pies, the pie and peas, but it’s easy to forget we were first introduced to pasta and Chinese food through Vesta ready meals – pale imitations of the real thing. I remember the first Chinese take away in our town, the curry houses that served the immigrant community and the youth of the town but which nobody else seemed to frequent. And I remember that garlic was something that foreigners used, not us.

My conclusion? Change is inescapable. It’s also a mixed blessing. Would I want to go back to a time when black or brown faces were a novelty to be regarded with suspicion, when people could be imprisoned for who they loved, when we didn’t have the benefits of a mix of cultures. No. Definitely not. That doesn’t stop me regretting the move from the high street to online shopping, the shift to communicating by machine rather than in person, the loss of pubs as people choose the cheaper option of drinking cheap supermarket booze at home. Naturally, I have little or no control over this. I can make some choices – shopping local when I can, driving less, supporting local pubs and restaurants, and protecting the freedoms gained when they are under attack. Freedom to love who you want, freedom from the old limited expectations for women, freedom from abuse because of skin colour or place of birth. These changes are hugely positive but always seem to be under attack from some sections of our society. Let’s make sure we cling on to the good.

The Malt Shovel 1970

Mrs Richards ran the pub 
a family affair
but Ted and Brian 
were kings of the bars
each with his own territory
moving in and out of the crowd
laden trays held high
drinkers moving aside
or seeking their attention
to order beer, crisps, cider
till off they went 
back to the bar
their reserved section
returning with proper pints
with foaming heads
collecting the money
and the banter

a local community
groups of youngsters
sharing a joke
with older folk
who knew their families
laughter
another round
while outside
the world is changing
and the Malt
will need to change with it
as it aways has