On the demise of the British pub

[Marco]

Born 1968 we were brought up to be well-behaved and only speak when we were spoken to. like Joe say we were not interested in the adults and they were not interested in us. That is a psychologically healthy situation.

Sorry, don't get that. I'd argue the complete opposite, based on how I was brought up [and if I may say so, rather well, too]!

When I met up with one of my brothers and his 2 children the other week I was pleased to note that my nephew refused to come and say hello and instead stayed sat watching the telly. He will grow up to be a capable, balanced individual.

Lol - again that's a complete anathema to me (pure bad manners), and the last sentence is also the complete opposite of my personal experience!

I was brought up as a child to be caring, warm, confident, friendly and outgoing [all fundamental traits of my parents], and willing and able to talk to anyone, which dare I say it, is exactly how I turned out, not some cold, emotionally challenged, introverted recluse, which in my experience is usually what happens to children who've been brought up glued to the TV [now also games console] and starved of adult (and often proper parental) contact!

Therefore, I greeted all my relatives who visited and gave them a big hug, which was reciprocated, and although I then left the adults to it and played with my mates outside, or went up to my room and listened to music, played on the computer or whatever, when it was meal time, I came down (or was called in) and joined the adults at the table, and we all ate and talked together as a (close and loving) family.

The adults (any of my relatives, grans, granddads, uncles, aunts, etc), took a healthy interest in me (indeed as an only child I was always fussed over) and they always asked what I had been doing, what nice places I'd been to (mum and dad always took me out with them to restaurants, days out to the country/seaside, etc, many times a month) books I'd read, where I'd cycled to or whatever, and I took great pleasure in telling them all about it!

Those types of precious interactions and experiences, as a kid, helped 'shape' me into the person I am now, and I'm very grateful for it.

It's also the reason, as Alan says, that French kids [and Italian] are generally very well behaved amongst adults and in public places, simply because they're used to the situation and aren't phased by it - and conversely why so many British kids are the exact opposite, precisely because they're not!

So, I'm sorry, you're entitled to your opinion, mate, but we're MILES apart on this one.....!

Marco.

[Macca]

And another thing - when we were kicking a ball about on the park he got hit full in the face, Never bothered him, he took the pain for a couple of seconds and then was fine and carried on. You can tell the winners at the starting gate.

[Marco]

Now *that* I do agree with, and that most of today's kids are useless softies, with little or no gumption or common sense, simply because they've been mollycoddled all their lives, and never had to think for themselves!

Now, I'll fully admit that I was spoiled, and in reality compared with many others, had a fairly privileged upbringing, but I was always brought up to appreciate the value of money, and had discipline, good manners and a work ethic fundamentally instilled in me, from a very early age.

I can remember wheelbarrowing lumps of soil around, doing weeding and helping with various chores around the house and garden, from a very early age, and when I was old enough helping my dad in his fish and chip shop. No way would he have tolerated me being a soft, lazy, gormless git, even though I wanted for nothing emotionally, or in terms of material possessions, which is rather different to how a lot of kids are brought up today!

Marco.

[Joe]

Y'see, as British children, once we'd got the obligatory 'look how he's grown' and 'doesn't he look like his Dad?' comments out of the way, we just wanted to be off by ourselves, leaving the adults to talk about whatever boring shite they talked about, seemingly for hours on end. This was especially so if it was a bunch of female relatives, who wanted to talk uninterruptedly about 'things' that should be of no concern or interest to youngsters. Being made a fuss over was a fate worse than death; not that it was likely to happen to me with three siblings and a dog competing for my parents' attention. As a middle child (third of four) I was more than happy to be left in peace to play with my toys and/or tease my younger brother and let the adults rabbit on. We had to make our own amusements in those days.

My father was a very dour Scotsman. One thing he couldn't stand was too much talking at meal times. Laughing during the meal meant you were sent out into the garden. I could reduce my elder sister to hysterics just by pulling a face at her. Out she'd go. Then she'd make faces at me through the French windows, and I'd crack up too. Sometimes all four of us children would be out there. That's how tough life was in the early 60s.

[struth]

We talked with visitors as kids. Maybe not all the time but often.
Was just good manners

[Macca]

Absolutely right Joe. if relatives came round you'd try to stay out of the way. You'd have to go and say hello but it was done in the vain hope that you could just get away with that and then piss off back upstairs or in the back, or wherever you had planned to hide out. Worst case it would only be 5 minutes or so and then Aunty Elsie would be off on one and you could slip away unnoticed.

[Joe]

Absolutely right Joe. if relatives came round you'd try to stay out of the way. You'd have to go and say hello but it was done in the vain hope that you could just get away with that and then piss off back upstairs or in the back, or wherever you had planned to hide out. Worst case it would only be 5 minutes or so and then Aunty Elsie would be off on one and you could slip away unnoticed.

There's a story George Harrison told about his childhood that had me nodding in agreement. He was so afraid of being fussed over by a friendly neighbour that he used to creep past her windows on his hands and knees so as not to be seen. We had a neighbour like that too. She had a kind heart, but more rabbit than Sainsbury's. I could usually avoid her, but my brother was too slow, and would often be held by her interminable Ancient Mariner-type yarns when he really wanted to be watching Fireball XL5 or Supercar. Her husband was a docker, a man of very few words. He told my Southern wife-to-be that he was a 'real wacker', and she thought he meant he was some sort of panel-beater.

[Marco]

Y'see, as British children, once we'd got the obligatory 'look how he's grown' and 'doesn't he look like his Dad?' comments out of the way, we just wanted to be off by ourselves, leaving the adults to talk about whatever boring shite they talked about, seemingly for hours on end.

As I said, exactly as I did... *But* when it came to meal times (which are an integral part of the day and very important to Italian families), I would join the adults to eat, and I would thoroughly enjoy the experience, as most of them, including my mum, were fabulous cooks!

This is no doubt where my interest today in fine food and wine was honed, as from about the age of 5, I was drinking wine with some water in it, and being exposed to all sorts of 'exotic' foods most British kids then could only dream of, a lot of which, I'd hasten to add, was produce of our own garden or greenhouse.

Therefore, for me, meal times were a genuinely FUN and rewarding experience, and in many ways the best part of the day!!

Being made a fuss over was a fate worse than death; not that it was likely to happen to me with three siblings and a dog competing for my parents' attention. As a middle child (third of four) I was more than happy to be left in peace to play with my toys and/or tease my younger brother and let the adults rabbit on. We had to make our own amusements in those days.

I get that, but as an only child, I never experienced any of that, so I was more than happy to be fussed over and spoiled!

My father was a very dour Scotsman. One thing he couldn't stand was too much talking at meal times. Laughing during the meal meant you were sent out into the garden. I could reduce my elder sister to hysterics just by pulling a face at her. Out she'd go. Then she'd make faces at me through the French windows, and I'd crack up too. Sometimes all four of us children would be out there. That's how tough life was in the early 60s.

Fair enough, but my father was (and still is at 85) a cheery, outgoing, passionate (but strictly disciplined) Italian, so the complete opposite of your dad, and that, and our totally different respective cultures, coupled with the fact that I never had a 'tough' life, although I wasn't brought up to be a lazy, spoiled brat either, is most likely responsible for why we look at things so differently.

Marco.

[Macca]

Different cultures but it isn't a question of better or worse. Just different.

[walpurgis]

My father was somewhat different. If he'd lived long enough for me to get big enough, I'd have decked him!