Category: British

Generational Differences

I believe the Scottish word for it is – Dreich. With that spelling it almost sounds German. I’d pronounce it as dreek. What this means is the weather is dull, damp, gloomy, and miserable. Overcast, wintery, with intermittent drizzle and rain never seeming to give up. Couldn’t be a better word to describe it – Dreich.

That was yesterday. There’s a good chance that today will be the same. Not unusual for February. That said, the cumulative impact is that the ground water is rising and the rivers are topped right up to the brim. That rock hard, dusty, tinder dry summer of last year is as if it was a million years ago. What water shortage?

Outside the bird life is flourishing in these damp conditions. I saw a large white Egret was doing a morning stroll oblivious to the drizzle. Up top a tall dead tree a Cormorant was surveying its territory. Ducks are playfully buzzing around the river’s edge. The Canadian Geese are doing what they do every day. Foraging for anything of interest.

It does not good to complain about this uninspiring weather. Although it’s a cultural phenomenon, the weather is the biggest sources of small talk in this country. “You’re not made of sugar, get out there and do something”. I maybe miss remembering these parental words. It’s clear that mulling around indoors and constantly whining isn’t a good formula for mental health.

Add to the gloom and despondency the daily dose of British politics. So many of us had hoped that replacing one group of deafening incompetent politicians with a duller set would mean that stuff gets done. The boring, but necessary, tasks of governing would be accomplished without endless calamities. Faint hope.

For lunch, to escape the incessant rain, I sat down in a coffee shop. The place was busy. Everyone coming in to get out of the rain. Shaking off umbrellas and drying out raincoats. I had to look around to find a comfortable place to sit. Near the entrance. Next to me were an older couple and their granddaughter. It’s impossible not to earwig in such situations. We exchanged a couple of polite smiles.

Here I recount what fascinated me about the generational gap. The young girl didn’t put her mobile phone down once, in so far as I could see. It was clear from the conversation that she was not allowed to use her mobile at school. Phones were confiscated. If my observation indicates anything, it’s that banning phones just mean more mobile phone use when the opportunity presents itself.

Politics reared its head in their conversation. The granddaughter was monosyllabic about the subject. Maybe it was one she studies at school. She carried on scrolling. Unsolicited grandfatherly advice came across the table. To paraphrase – You should watch that man Jacob Rees-Mogg on GB News. He speaks very good English. He makes a lot of sense. The young girl carried on scrolling.

Oh brother! There’s a generational gap summary in a couple of rainy-day minutes.

I had one grandfather on my mum’s side. On my dad’s side my grandfather died relatively young. Both were West Country farmers. The grandfatherly advice I got was more to do with hard work. Not so much to do with politics. That is except for amusement about the hippies that turned up at the village of Pilton every year. That became the Glastonbury festival. Given that my grandfather had experience of the First World War, that must have been quite a contrast.

A Dark Legacy

Controversy is bubbling away like a broken pressure cooker suck on a high gas flame. I’m just writing about the words spoken in Parliament, yesterday. The case of the British “prince of darkness” is one for the textbooks. This man, who acquired the title “prince of darkness[1]” long ago, is Peter Mandelson. Now, formerly a Labour Party member, he’s slithered through political life, in the UK and Europe, dragging controversy everywhere he’s been.

Honestly, I don’t want to write about this politician. A casebook study of a follower of Niccolò Machiavelli’s brutal manual for would-be leaders. Being a “prince” in this century, and the last, seems to bring out the very worst in those who are given the title. It’s fine for fiction to be dotted with so called “evil genius” characters but in real life these are people best avoided.

At the heart of the recent News is not just a betrayal. It’s the habits and lives of powerful people acting in a way that assumes an immunity from any accountability. Evidence that greedy people collude behind closed doors to line their own pockets. That morals go out of the window.

I continue to believe that most politicians in the UK Parliament are motivated to make the world a better place. They go to Westminster to try to make a difference. To fulfil that adage to: “Try and leave this world a little better than you found it.”

I make this assertion not in a naive way. Afterall, I’ve stood for election more than a few times. Quite a lot, in fact. Over several decades. Sadly, never with any great amount of success. Often meeting people on the same journey. Most of those people I met are putting themselves forward to right some wrong or use their expertise for the public good and make a difference.

At the heart of the recent News is a moral vacuum too. This vulgar belief that ingratiating oneself with unethical wealthy individuals has no consequence. Instead of protecting the public interest and exposing corruption, a considerable number of influential men have chosen to either turn a blind eye or adopt disgraceful practices.

On first meeting, I admit that it’s not always possible to know of the evils that another person may have committed. What’s shocking now is the distinct lack of curiosity that seems to have been exhibited by many prominent people. That’s the generous (Christian) interpretation.

The exhibition of misogyny revealed in the information that has been released in the US is disgusting. It’s way beyond that simple expression. If we are to move forward as a society these behaviours must be eradicated. To leave this world a little better than we found it, change must not just be a word that’s sprinkled into public speeches. Behavioural change must materialise.

Yes, we all have a responsibility in this respect. No looking the other way or pretending that unacceptable behaviours are not happening. Call them out. Especially those with a public voice.

[1] https://www.politico.eu/article/prince-of-darkness/

Influences on Well-Being

How life has changed. In the time of black and white TV I remember watching Jack Hargreaves[1] wibbling on about a lost countryside. A romantic world of idyllic landscapes. Rolling English hills and green hedges. His series “Out of Town” played for a generation. To his credit he did focus on people and the way they lived their lives as much as the scenic backdrops.

He’s cheerily derogatory about the urban environment. Although he does take on the sentimentality that people have towards the countryside. In ways he’s a latter-day green campaigner. With a past century traditional style. 

This memory is sparked by me thinking about colds and flu. Winters accompaniments. Changeable January weather torments us in one way and in another gives us a tempting glimmer of the spring to come. It really is wet wet wet.

Ground water has risen to form shallow pools in the swamy field out back. This is much to the liking of the geese and a lone heron. The river Lambourn hasn’t yet bust its banks but that can’t be far off. Cloudy today with more rain on the way.

I’m fortunate in being in relatively good health. I’ve had my bout of winter blues. Now, I’m noticing the slightly shorter shadows when the sun shines. Everything is sodden. Hints of the season changing are out there. It’s the blubs that are trusting upwards from the soggy soil.

What do I attribute my good health to? I wouldn’t put it down to heathy living although the maximum of all things in moderation does appeal. In part, maybe it’s because I grew up in the world that Jack Hargraves documented. On a west country farm were muck and mud were plentiful at this time of year. Deep soggy and unavoidable.

I don’t know if youthful the exposure to muck and mud has a lifetime benefit. It certainly seems to be one theory that is put around. The idea that a person’s immune system learns about all the nasties that are encountered. It then adapts and knows how to fight off the worst of them.

My, and my brothers, inoculation consisted of a wheelbarrow, a pitchfork and a mountain of manure. Shifting this delightful stuff from farm sheds was mostly a manual task in the 1960s. Now, it’s a case of jumping on a Bobcat[2] or JCB and driving up and down until the job is done.

Solid stone-built farm buildings, like our cart shed were never intended for the use that my parents put them to. Keeping cattle indoors during the winter months. Layers of straw and muck accumulated their bedding grew in hight. By the time it was dry enough to let the cattle out into the surrounding fields their bedding was almost as deep as I was tall.

That’s how we earned our pocket money. A wheelbarrow, pitchforks and hundreds of trips backwards and forwards shifting muck. Creating a big pile in the farmyard. Then that got loaded into a muck spreader. The most organic fertiliser that can be spread on the land.

This memory is sparked. Looking at a cliff like face of compressed muck that went back for what seemed like miles. Digging away at it endlessly. Wheelbarrow load after load. A Sisyphean task, where only dogged persistence would pay off. No wonder I was a healthy young man.

[1] https://youtu.be/4e_jfU9eTSI

[2] https://www.bobcat.com/na/en

Reflections: Decade Since Brexit

Ten years ago, the world was a different place. “The past is a foreign country”. That bit is true. I still had an apartment is Cologne. Although, that phase of my life was coming to an end. The first two months of 2016 were about wrapping up the loose ends. Deregistering, as is the way when leaving German. Coming to a settlement with my landlord. Packing up and moving back to the UK. Saying goodbye to my regular haunts. Saying goodbye to a wonderful city.

Being an astute watcher of the UK political landscape, I could see that a vail of discontent was hovering over my homeland. There was a frustration amongst those in government. Can this endless debate about the UK’s place in Europe be resolved? Can it be knocked on the head once and for all?

The UK Prime Minister (PM), David Cameron was sitting on a small majority after the General Election of 2015. Conservatives were nervous but wanting to retake the agenda by trying to put to bed the Europe question. As it turns out Cameron made a grave mistake. He entertained the notion of a national referendum to advise the government on what to do next. An act that was uncommon to the UK’s normal way of doing business.

Probably one of the most foolish political acts a UK PM has taken in a very long time. Naturally, in 2016 few had an idea of the chaos that would be unleashed by this attempt at quelling internal Conservative Party wranglings. It’s true that these wranglings were not new. Just perpetual or should I say perennial.

My return to the UK wasn’t a celebration of the achievements we had made in Europe. That collectively we were in a much better place than before. That we had build something to be proud of. No, it was more of a submersion into an angry and emotional row. A heated row littered with misinformation and just simple run of the mill nonsense.

As I write this it’s plainly evident that the experiment, that was Brexit, damaged the country. Not only that but it resolved nothing. Instead of settling an issue it stirred up animosities and tribal conflicts. Today’s soap opera on the right-wing of UK politics is evidence enough of unresolved rivalries and ideological divides. An insular mindset and unresolvable differences.

In January 2016, there was no practical plan to leave the European Union (EU). It was almost unthinkable. Surely sensibility would prevail. That’s the political trap that Cameron fell into. Dare I say an almighty display of his cultured public-school arrogance. Convinced that if arguments were put to the public authoritatively, logically and rationally a remain result would be a simple foregone conclusion. That the political risks were manageable. That’s how wrong a man in power can be.

Moving on a decade. Yes, it is that long. Lots of water under the bridge. To the idiots on stage now, I say: the UK is not broken. It surely isn’t in as good a place as it could be. Had Brexit not taken place then we’d all be much more prosperous. We would be contenting with continuity. That includes squabbling right-wingers, but the fact is that they will never ever desist.

What’s sad is that the opinion polls say that a significant number of people want more of the same. More nonsense from the people who brought us Brexit in the first place. More from those doomsters and has-beens who complain without any realistic ideas of how to solve problems. A karnival of conmen.

Now, in the UK we have two right leaning political parties that are almost the same. One being the Conservatives and the other Reform. Each trying to outdo each other to attract the same voters. Stirring up discontent wherever they can find it. Projecting a negative image of the country whenever they speak. Feuding in a way that should convince people that neither is fit to govern.

POST: These folk explain it all in clay. Claysplained (@claysplained) • Instagram photos and videos

Exploring ‘The War Between the Land and the Sea’

OK so there’s the predicable amount of sentimentality. Yes, it makes the story human. Great and cataclysmic events don’t grab attention unless they are associated with the human experience. That’s not entirely true. There will always be nerds, like me, who are drawn in by the facts and the creativity of structure and form.

“The War Between the Land and the Sea[1]” is a well-crafted combination human stories and an imaginative fictional expanse. It’s a spin-off of the world of Dr Who. However, what Russell T Davies has created is a more grounded drama about the here and now. Whoops – shouldn’t have used the word “grounded.” This made for broadcast science fiction story is about our Earthly reality. Two thirds of our beautiful planet is water. Earth is as much about water as it is about dry land.

He’s not the first screen writer to imagine a world dominated by water. If I remember rightly, there’s that terrible American movie Waterworld[2]. I say terrible even though it was atypical of 1990s cinema watching. A better point of reference, and a motivation to wall-up a stock of baked beans on high ground somewhere in the English countryside, is “The Kraken Wakes.” Now, there’s an exceptionally fine story from one of my favourite authors, namely John Wyndham.

Russell T Davies taps into ancient sailor’s stories of scary monsters in the deep. The lure of the unknow. Even with our expansive knowledge of the cosmos, humanity is still largely ignorant of the world of the deep ocean. Discoveries are arising year by year.

I can imagine some hard-nosed right-wing commentators will be sniffy about the focus on climate change and the dangers of the melting of the polar icecaps. To some extent, this is incidental to the story. I don’t think the “The War Between the Land and the Sea” is too preachy.

Strangely enough I was initially put off by the BBC’s repetitive advertising of the series. As if they were nervous of the risks of making it in the first place and that few would watch this drama. Let’s put that aside. This is an excellent British television drama. It’s more adult than Dr Who. By storyboarding the global angsts of the day and combining it with a fantasy that’s full of twists and turns, this is well worth a watch.

I hope the BBC drama will be brave enough to continue in this direction. New, imaginative, science fiction that’s not afraid of posing the “what if” questions. As we endure the manipulation of the daily News that spins fears and gives airtime to conspiracy theories, so fiction and reality can get blurred.

I know an unidentified race of intelligent life is not going to rise out of the Seas and challenge our dominance of Earth. I like the idea of stories that prick our arrogance and offer a reminder of our vulnerabilities. Apocalyptic visions abound but not all touches on our contemporary industrial recklessness and potential political idiocy.

Today, the oceans are riddled with hydrophones listening for underwater activity. Yet no one has picked-up and decoded a group of fleeing dolphins saying – so long, and thanks for all the fish. Maybe tomorrow. Who needs to Dr?

[1] https://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/m002p0xm

[2] https://www.imdb.com/title/tt0114898/

Political Intolerance

Although there’s a growing intolerance in the UK. That can be seen in the opinion poll ratings for the Reform Party. Voicing opinions that are likely to arouse conflict, and division has become a calling card. Done on a regular basis the media can’t resist covering every foghorn moment. This offers them a disproportionate coverage, as if the sky is falling every day.

Kinda funny that a European folk tale, with a moral twist, is the basis of a political strategy in 2025. “Chicken Licken” got hit on the head by an acorn and deduced that the world was about to end so he’d better tell everyone right away.

I started, although there’s a growing intolerance in the UK, and meant to lead on to deducing that I’d say that people in the UK are more tolerant than those in the US. Now, this isn’t the case. For from it, tolerance is being stretched to the limits in the US.

For all the bad Press the current UK Prime Minister (PM) gets, his language has been coherent, deliberate, and understandable. That is like most of his predecessors, except the one who was in office only as long as a lettuce remained fresh, namely perhaps Liz Truss. Starmer is a lawyer after all. Not a great orator. Certainly not a comedian.

If Labour’s leader Starmer stood on a public platform and exclaimed “nobody understands magnets” I’m sure he wouldn’t last longer in post than Liz Truss did. See how intolerant people are in the UK.

Humanity understands magnetism. That’s down to a couple of heroes on mine. Michael Faraday[1] and James Clerk Maxwell. By applying experimentation and mathematics they both mapped out how electromagnetism works. Much of the modern world depends on their discoveries. Electrical power is at the core of technical society.

If the PM were to redefine his government’s environmental policies and take against wind energy, I doubt that he’d say, “The windmills are driving the whales crazy, obviously.” It’s true that the UK has a lot of wind turbines in the North Sea and that there are whales who pass that way[2]. That sentence alone would have the members of the House of Commons rolling in the aisles. It would be difficult for supporters and opponents alike to remain calm in such a situation.

On both sides of the Atlantic there’s so much debate and discussion about artificial intelligence that it’s impossible to get away from it. Yes, there must be a few ostriches, with their heads in the sand, who when asked wouldn’t know of the existence of AI. Can’t be many though.

So far, the PM hasn’t resorted to saying “Around the globe everyone is talking about artificial intelligence. I find that too artificial, I can’t stand it. I don’t even like the name.” Naturally, I stand to be corrected because there may come a time at Prime Minister’s Question Time that the subject of dropping the word “artificial” comes up. It’s hasn’t yet. If this subject became part of the ding done exchange at the dispatch box in parliament there is one thing for sure. Everyone would know that it would be time for a new PM.

Will Starmer survive 2026. My prediction is that he will survive in post but that will not stop arguments about his future. Overall, here my conclusion is that people in the US are far more tolerant than those in the UK.

[1] https://www.mritannica.com/biography/Michael-Faraday

[2] https://www.wildlifetrusts.org/wildlife-explorer/marine/marine-mammals-and-sea-turtles/minke-whale

Rethinking Taxation Strategies

The whole subject of land value tax is not one to get into if you are looking for something to read while waiting for a bus or looking for a light-hearted story. Yes, that could be said about any discussion about taxation. Probably one of the reasons why so few people engage in conversations about the nitty gritty of this subject.

LVT (Land Value Tax) is not new. This idea has been on the block for decades. One of the underlying reasons for its popularity is that instead of taxing things society likes, like business, commerce and employment, this tax scheme aims at an asset value. In a country where land is a valuable commodity, at least in populated areas, here’s a tax base that this solid.

The part LVT could play in UK tax reform is a major one. That’s where this subject gets twisty. How to get from where we are now to a new scheme that is understandable, straightforward, and acknowledged as fair. That is, at least in comparison with the existing taxation schemes.

One provision needed is to distinguish between public land to private land. There’s no point in raising revenue to fund local government and then getting that entity to use those funds pay the same tax. If private organisations lease public land, then there would need to be a provision too.

Then there’s the difficult issue of revaluations of private land such that the result is fair and genuinely reflects “value”. A city car park and a golf course are very different in that respect. Fine there is a national land registry, although there are still packets of land unregistered.

Quite a bureaucratic set-up establishing a Valuation Agency. Even if most of the necessary information is already held by lots of existing organisations. Every set of accounts is going to have value for assets held or owned. The range of accuracy of these values can be wide.

I’m not making a case against LVT. What I am saying is that tax reform is not easy. Those proposing it must have a long-term perspective. Must be committed to getting away from making ever more complicated fragmentary changes to legacy schemes. Adding ever more complexity to an unreadable tax code.  

Tax reform is not easy. Facing up to those who gain an advantage from the status-quo is often one of the greatest pressures that a government faces. Making life simpler and less burdensome for small businesses, shops, pubs and restaurants is a great ambition. Facing up to the owners of golf courses and sprawling country estates, now that’s not so easy.

Now, when I wonder what the New Year will bring it doesn’t seem that the current government is not brave enough to make radical changes. Their approach, over the last year, has been one of cautious incremental tinkering. If they have core principle, no one is quite sure what they are.

Swearing in English Culture

I do suppose that it’s my country upbringing, but that’s not entirely so. There was a set of opposing tensions that spread through society in the 1960s as much as they did in the 1660s.

On the one side there’s the authenticity of the country born and bread son or daughter of the soil in honest toil. That image of the rural artisan, painted by a famous artist, struggling with the elements to put bread on the table wasn’t as clean and tidy as the artist depicted.

On the other hand, was a spirit of bettering oneself. Elevation from the base worker day reality, up to one’s knees in muck, and practicalities of country life. Middle class, educated entrepreneurial, energies directed at improvement and modernisation.

An indicator of the side of the line that was most natural for a person was the use of langauage. Another might be the seriousness with which a Sunday church sermon was listened to. Another could be the frequency of evenings spent propping up the bar in the village pub.

Here my focus is on language. I’m of a generation who was told off for swearing. Whether at home, school or most social situations. This idea of self-improvement and good manners was handed down. It didn’t just spring from our parents’ ambitions. There was pressure to behave.

To suggest that colourful swearing didn’t happen was far from the truth. Even the highest minded tended to shift their disposition depended on the situation. Afterall, if I have had a calf stood on my toe or lost a wellington boot in deep cold mud it’s unlikely that my exclamation would have been – oh dear! that was jolly inconvenient.

Swear words are a constant. What continues to change is the meaning and level of offense that each one has attached. Casual obscenities that were thrown about like confetti may now be totally out of bounds. Calling someone a “bastard” in past times might almost have been considered a term of endearment.

Campaigners rail against suppressing free speech. Regulating what can be said. Rightly so, in most cases. That said, it’s rare that common place langauage is what such campaigners wish to protect. Even the traditional mundane ones are converted into softer tones to avoid offence.

If I think back to my childhood and market days in towns like Sturminster Newton in Dorset, then a great deal of English culture has been lost. Some may say thank God for progress. For me, the rural landscape isn’t as colourful or characterful as it once was, but what do I know?

Don’t read me wrong. I’m not calling for expletives and offensive words to spill out of every page or be heard up and down the high street. Social media is full of grossly offensive nastiness.

That’s part of my point. Authentic swearing doesn’t have to be used as a weapon. Yes, swearing in the 17th century was often used that way. Today, it’s better used as emphasis, exaggeration or an expression of despair. Like a valve on the lid of a pressure cooker, the occasional use of a rude word is a manner of relief. I’m sure Shakespeare would approve. Even he was censored.

As an expression of despair, we do need everyday tools to hand. If that’s the lively use of traditional langauage then so be it. For those who are offended please look at the bigger picture.

Lessons from Nature

I once said to Kwasi Kwarteng[1] that peak Boris Johnson passed during the early part of his terms as London mayor. Naturally, predicably he didn’t agree with me. This was in the Parliamentary constituency of Runnymede and Weybridge in 2017. I was the Liberal Democrat candidate standing against former Conservative Minister Philip Hammond. The public event we were attending was in Egham in Surrey.

Wow. A hell lot of water has passed under the bridge since that time. It’s like looking back at medieval history and trying to find a thread that links with the here and now. Governments have been and gone, careers have flourished and collapsed, Trump has been and gone and then returned and as was predicted Brexit has turned out to be a disaster.

Here’s a thought. It has always astonished me that we have a common fallacy. If a shelf regarding person who makes a lot of noise was once, even for a fleeting time, good at one job, they will be good at a loosely similar job. What a load of nonsense. So, it has turned out to be.

I’ve been watching the BBC’s series Kingdom[2]. About the animal kingdom. I know that the filming of such a spectacular series takes an enormous amount of dedication and effort. We get the pleasure of watching a well edited set of stories about leopards, hyena, wild dogs, and lions.

It’s tough out there to survive the seasons in the imposing Zambian landscape. We get to see the shifting of power between animal families and from generation to generation. It’s raw nature doing what it does and what it has been doing since the dawn of time. In what appears a paradise, nature is cruel. Rivals quickly exploit weakness. It’s going a bit far to draw a direct link between the rivals in the wild and the rivals in our parliamentary democracy. That said, there are lessons nature can teach us.

One is that top dogs don’t stay top dogs forever. They get their moment in the sun and then it passes. The fight to make a claim on a territory is perpetual. Yes, the cycles of the season have their impact and luck, good or bad, plays its part.

Two, is that a bad move remains a bad move. Ignoring crocodiles is never a good move. Wandering about without the protection of the pack is a high-risk strategy. Backing off, and fighting another day, is the best way to deal with a bigger, meaner, and hungrier opponent.

Where am I going with talk of these two different worlds? Human nature and animal nature.

It’s my reaction to seeing the scribblings of a former Prime Minister wibbling on about how dangerous it would be to reverse Brexit. Boris Johnson, that man whose star faded a long time ago, is writing for tabloid newspapers. He’s writing exactly what anyone would expect to see from those who will not learn from experience.

A bad move remains a bad move. Now, nearly ten years on, a bad decision remains a bad decision. Write what you like, it’s impossible to transform a failed project into a kind of utopia. What’s worse is to try and scare people by writing that we must tolerate failure because we once adopted a failed project is ludicrous. It’s irresponsible. It’s mad.

[1] UK Chancellor of the Exchequer from September to October 2022 under PM Liz Truss.

[2] https://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/m002hdgh

Age Restrictions

Inevitably whenever there’s a decision as to what is age-appropriate one’s own experience comes to the fore. The experiment that is going on in Australia is one to watch. That country has taken a step towards the regulation of social media that provides defined limits. From zero to age 16 there’s to be a ban, or a restriction as the more diplomatic commentators say. One discussion could be about the whole necessity, and possible effectiveness of a ban on social media and another about the age limit that has been set.

This is one of those debates where there are good cases to be made on both sides. I could start by citing examples of harm caused, in particular cases, of social media use by children. That would reinforce a compelling argument for restrictions by law.

Alternatively, looking at the subject in the round, I could wonder at the position of young people first encountering an avalanche of social media on the day of their 16th birthday. Or the creativeness of young people in finding ways to evade a punitive law.

For me, my 16th birthday was a day of great liberation. Growing up in the countryside has lots of advantages. The downside is the effort needed to get anywhere beyond walking distance. No buses. No trains. Just a pushbike. Miles of country lanes, green fields and distant villages.

No demanding, distracting all-encompassing digital paraphernalia. Maybe a radio, cassette recorder and a pile of vinyl records. For me a couple of beaten-up cars and motorcycles too. As per the famous four Yorkshiremen sketch: try telling that to the kids of today.

Yes, my 16th birthday was a day of great liberation. That because of the law. I wasn’t alone. It was there for every schoolboy who could afford one. Shiny in the showrooms. Names like: Fantic, Gilera, Garelli, Yamaha, Suzuki and Puch, were all on our list of wants.

In December 1971, the British Government create legislation that restricted 16-year-olds to 50cc mopeds (motorcycles with pedal assistance). This was a worthy effort to improve road safety and reduce the carnage of motorcycle accidents. What was unexpected was the frenzy of innovation that this well-meaning law triggered. Motorcycle manufacturers set to their drawing boards and radically transformed the moped. I do mean radically.

I came in at the end of this era. By early 1976 manufactures had squeezed every drop of performance that was possible out of a mere 50cc engine. Designs had gone from uncomfortable, sluggish commuter bikes that would feel embarrassed to own, to sporty fast racing machines that were extremely desirable.

Ah, the unintended consequences of worthy legislation. For me this was wonderful. It opened a whole new vista and introduced me to one or two roadside hedges. Waiting for me on my 16th birthday was one of the best. A Puch Grand Prix Special. In black and gold, this really was a fast and refined two-stroke machine. Even with cast alloy wheels and a front disk brake, which was whizzy for the time. Racing along the main A30 the bikes gearing was such that I went fastest downhill, while my mates Garelli overtook me going up the hills.

What can I say? When it comes to age-appropriate the results may not be what is intended.

Note: Reference: Funky Mopeds! The 1970s sports moped phenomenon. Richard Skelton. Veloce Publishing. ISBN 13 978-1-84584-078-5  www.veloce.co.uk