Oh no, Shopping - Never Again!

Having a wife and three daughters, years of painful experience has taught me that going shopping with them is a very bad idea. Outnumbered by 4 to 1, I don't stand a chance. Today, however, still full of Christmas cheer, I waivered, and joined them on a shopping trip.

One of the basic problems with shopping is the fundamental difference in the way men and women go about it. Deep down - or maybe not so deep down - us men are basically Neanderthal hunter gatherers. Presented with a modern day jungle (shopping mall), after a quick chest beating we're off, totally focused on the hunt. We simply track down the prey (item to be purchased), kill it (pay), sling it across our shoulders (put it in a plastic bag), and march triumphantly back to camp (try to find the car in the mall car park). In times past returning back we would have been greeted as heroes by the women folk. In my house, however, my hard won catches are generally greeted with sniggers, derision and cries of 'You're not allowed to shop unsupervised!' This was particularly cutting last time I came back from a solo shopping trip. Personally, I think a hogs hair shaving brush is perfectly nice gift for my great aunt. I would love one myself, and she certainly needs one.

Women, on the other hand, do not go about shopping in this way. Rather than engaging their lower, ancient brain during shopping, as men do, they seem to feel it necessary to engage their higher brain in order to track down the best possible item, rather than any suitable item. Any hunter gatherer worth his sort can see that this is a ridiculously floored strategy. Walking passed several woolly mammoths in order to find one with precisely this season's shade of fur is never going to bring the bacon home.

This feminine strategy was classically demonstrated to me on a Christmas shopping trip with my beloved a couple of years ago. The prey was a blue hoody. Imagine my joy when I identified an item of precisely the correct specification in the very first shop we entered. I'm sure it wasn't embarrassment at the growling roar of triumph that I let out that prevented my wife buying it. It was something else.

"It's a hoody?"
"Yes."
"It's blue?"
"Yes."
"It's the right size?"
"Yes. But ..."
"But what!"

She wouldn't last 5 minutes in the jungle, I thought. My exasperation grew exponentially with every further discovery in different shops of an item meeting the required specification. We found a second one, a third one, a fourth one.... I was on the verge of mugging a hobo for his half drunk bottle of Bell's when she said, "I think I preferred the first one." In my defence, he shouldn't have been drinking in public anyway, he was bigger than me and he wasn't as old as he looks. But the magistrate didn't see it that way unfortunately.

Anyway, I digress. Back to my ill-advised shopping trip with my wife and daughters. As we drove into the mall car park my anxiety grew as I remembered previous traumas that had become buried within my subconscious during the Christmas merriment. I was so anxious that the first thing I had to do was go to the Gents. I went in and my four handlers disappeared into the Ladies. Now, when you have a wife and three daughters, you get used to hanging around outside ladies toilets, as women inevitably take much longer to do their business, or whatever it is that they do in there. I waited outside suffering the usual discomfort of disdainful glances from women going in. Why do they always assume you are some kind of pervert rather than someone simply waiting for a female companion to emerge, I thought indignantly. Just then, my wife appeared and said with great glee, "Your flies are undone."

Don't ask me how but zip manufacturers have succeeded in designing their product to operate with an efficiency inversely proportional to the embarrassment of the operator and so after what seemed an eternal struggle to make myself decent again I trudged along disconsolately behind the four of them as they excitedly skipped off without even having the decency to muffle their laughter.

This may appear bad, but the day was about to take an even more terrible turn. A sight that strikes rigid fear into the heart of any man foolish enough to accompany a woman on a shopping trip appeared ahead of us - La Senza!!! I had to do something. I couldn't possibly face the inevitable excruciating embarrassment of not knowing where to fix my eyes in the shopping hell where time stands still as I waited for them to try on bra, after bra, after bra. I gazed around wide-eyed in a desperate attempt to distract them. "This looks great!" I shouted loudly, suddenly turning toward the nearest shop on the opposite side of the mall. They looked but barely broke their step. I can't say I was surprised as the shop was empty.

Why do women spend so much on bras? I went through my credit card receipts recently and found that my wife and daughters have spent £365 on bras on the last 12 months! That's, err....4 women....divide by 8... more than £45 per breast! In a last desperate attempt to persuade them out of yet another wallet-busting visit to La Senza I pointed this fact out to them. They seemed genuinely intrigued for a moment, and then one of my daughters said, "After the weight you've put on at Christmas, you should have divided by 10, so that's saved £8.50 per breast for a start." So cruel....

You see, lingerie shops are not designed with men in mind. As soon as a women finds a potentially suitable item, she generally disappears off into the changing rooms with her companions to try it on. But naturally male companions are not welcome in the changing area and so we have to endure an extremely uncomfortable wait, surrounded by womens underwear. And it doesn't matter where you stand, someone always appears wanting to view the items directly behind you, so you spend the entire time hopping back and forth trying to avoid the disgusted glances of frustrated thong browsers. Talking of thongs, in the midst of my torture, this quite enormous woman appeared and of course wanted to view the items behind me which were the tiniest thongs I think I've ever seem. Bearing in mind she was as wide as a door, I caught her with a raised-eyebrow glance that inevitably said, "Really?" She glared back defiantly, took one of the thongs and disappeared in the direction of the changing rooms. It was at this point I decided to put some more distance between me and the changing rooms. If the elastic goes while she's trying them on, I don't want to be anywhere near the shrapnel, I thought.

I've had teeth extractions that seemed to pass quicker than this particular visit but eventually the four of them appeared in front of me laden down with bags. My relief was to be short lived as it became clear that our next stop would involve my wife purchasing a new dress.

Now, any attached male will know that "Do you like this dress?" presents an unavoidable no-win situation. We can't win because we don't have the right information. It's not as simple as saying what you like and what you don't like. I like my wife in short dresses because she has great legs and tight dresses because she has a great figure. But, of course, I am not party to the 'Fashion Rules' that are rigidly enforced by the evil Fashion Police. I've never met any of these Fashion Police but I know they exist because my wife and daughters are terrified of them and never dare break their rules. The punishments for illegal outfits are not specified - maybe your Top Shop card gets confiscated, or something like that. For some reason, the rules are only known to straight women and gay men, so all I know about the rules are snippets I have overhead in conversations between women. The rules often revolve around things like the age of the wearer, and other strange things like 'cut', which are a complete mystery to me. The age rules are interesting because, being over 40, my wife is apparently not allowed to wear anything more than one inch above the knee. I've spent many long hours puzzling over this rule. Is it to protect the viewer from unsightly thighs? Following this logic of covering up anything unsightly would mean requiring all ugly women and half the male population to go around with paper bags on their heads. Seems rather harsh.

I managed to persuade my wife to let us have a break before going headlong into something as challenging (for me) as a dress purchase, so I luxuriated in 10 minutes respite in a coffee shop. I had a flapjack and a double expresso - keeping my fluid intake to a minimum in order to avoid any further public toilet traumas.

Like a visit to the dentist for root canal work, I decided to get it over and done with and boldly led the way to the dress shop. I was encouraged to find that it was one of the more considerate shops that provide seats for traumatised partners near to the changing rooms, so that the excited prospective dress purchasers can come out of the changing room and get the opinion of the terrified partner. There was already two disconsolate wide-eyed victims sat there as I arrived. I exchanged no words with my fellow condemned. At times like these words are inadequate. A knowing but hopeless glance will suffice. As I sat down my wife and daughters started pulling dresses off the racks, commenting constantly as to whether the outfits would be 'legal' or not. I was not sure whether it was a good sign or not but it didn't take long for them to scuttle off into the changing rooms with armfuls of dresses. I was already beginning to feel rather uncomfortable as the orange-faced, gum-chewing assistant, leaning forward with her elbows on the counter, fixed a suspicious stare on me. I felt about as welcome as flatulence in a spacesuit.

They seemed to take an age in the changing rooms, so I started trying to discreetly look around the curtains to see if I could see them. About this time I realised that the double expresso had been a very bad idea. I began to get rather jittery and developed a pronounced facial tick that must have appeared like I was constantly winking. The shop assistant's grim stare only intensified, so I thought that maybe I could diffuse the tension by flashing a smile at her. I can see with hindsight that it must have looked odd as I kept putting my head around the changing room curtains and then looking back at the assistant smiling and apparently winking, although the brutality with which she frogmarched me out of the shop and deposited me on the floor of the mall was in my view completely uncalled for.

You may have thought that the upside of this particular misunderstanding would be that I was spared the dress-opining trial but, no. On finding me ejected from the shop - but apparently not particularly alarmed or surprised by the turn of events - my wife decided to purchase all the dresses she had selected so that I could give my judgements at home.

It was a long evening.

"How about this one?"
"A bit shorter, maybe."
"What do you think if this?"
"A bit tighter, maybe."




  

The Meaning of Christmas in Just 3 Minutes ...

Before time and space existed,  if you like, before the Big Bang, God existed. Because he is outside time and space, he has always existed and will always exist. He hasn't ignored us, however. Through the ages, he has revealed his character to us. He has three essential, unchangeable qualities. He is love. He is just. He is holy.

And because he is God, he is perfect love, perfect justice and perfect holiness. Perfect to the extent that he cannot not love, he cannot not be just, and he cannot not be holy. His perfect love is illustrated in another aspect of his nature. He has three dimensions, personalities if you like. These three personalities co-exist in a relationship of perfect love, so that even in his very being God's perfect love operates.

God created time and space, and he created the earth. On the earth he created life, and he could see that this was good. He created animal life, and he could see that was good too. However, he also wanted to create animal life that was like himself, made in his image. And so he created man. Man was like him not in physical appearance but in being able to share in his perfect love, justice and holiness. But the problem with love is that by its very nature it has to be a free choice by both parties. Compulsory love is not love at all, and certainly not perfect love. So man was free to reject God and that is exactly what happened. Selfishness, what we call sin, came into the world. Because of his perfect justice and perfect holiness, God could no longer dwell in the physical presence of man, and a great gulf was opened up between man and God. This was not because God was angry or wanted retribution for being rejected. It was simply that he could no more be in the presence of sin than my pet goldfish would be happy lying on my kitchen table. My goldfish can only exist in water and God can only exist in perfect love, perfect justice and perfect holiness.

But because of his perfect love, God was not going to give up on mankind. He selected a race of people, not because they were any more worthy than any other race, but because they were dispossessed wanderers, seeking a home. They were chosen for a purpose - to show the world the way home. For thousands of years God spoke to these people through their great kings, prophets and writers. The message throughout all these years was simple. The only way to be united with God once more is to be perfect but, because of sin, mankind can never be perfect. The situation is not hopeless, however. God will send a saviour to make us all perfect once more and able to be reunited with God.

In order to satisfy true justice, for things to be right and fair, our sins cannot be simply overlooked. The consequences must be faced and the consequence of sin is death - spiritual death. That is, separation from God. Man, because of his sinfulness cannot be with God and God, because of his holiness cannot be with sinful man. But God had a quite shocking plan. He decided to rip apart the perfect unity of his own being. To become a man himself and take the consequences of mankind's sin upon himself. On the cross, Jesus cried out 'My God, why have you forsaken me?' God himself, in Jesus, was torn apart from God the Father. Jesus paid the price for our sins and perfect justice was satisfied. But Jesus wasn't just a man. He was also God and so, as God has predicted through the ages, he rose up again so we can once again become perfect through accepting him. Perfect not because of any merit in us but perfect because of him.

At Christmas we remember how God came into the world, as a helpless baby. We remember why God came into the world, to reunite all mankind with himself in perfect love.

Why you don't have to believe the earth is 6,000 years old to be a Christian

Jesus said to the people who believed in him, “You are truly my disciples if you remain faithful to my teachings. And you will know the truth, and the truth will set you free.” - John 8:31-32



As Christians, our primary concern is truth. We seek to be faithful to the way things really are. The enemies of Christianity would have us believe that Christianity and science are in opposition. The fact is that all science is the study of God's creation. As far back as Bede the Venerable (c. 672-735) Christians have committed to this study, correctly seeing it as a pathway to truth. Robert Grosseteste, the 13th century Bishop of Lincoln, is considered the founder of scientific thought in Oxford. Robert Boyle, from the 17th century, argued that the study of science could improve glorification of God. Isaac Newton, regarded as one of the greatest scientists in history, was a life-long committed Christan. And this close co-existence between science and Christianity continues into the modern age. Charles Hard Townes, winner of the Nobel Prize in Physics and particle physicist John Polkinghorne are two notable but by no means rare contemporary examples.

But of course while there is no incompatibility between Christianity and science, there has from time to time been problems between the church and science. Over the centuries, brilliant scientists have been marginalised and pilloried because their genius was far ahead of the church leaders of the time. Most frequently, the source of these tensions can be traced back to one thing - the Bible. Before my Christian friends run screaming from their laptops, let me correct myself. Not the Bible but interpretation of the Bible.

Christians believe the Bible is the inspired word of God. Theologically, this belief is not optional for Christians and, in my view, neither is it optional from a practical, analytical viewpoint. Once you begin to pick and choose which parts of the Bible you are going to accept, where do you stop? For example, if you cannot accept the virgin birth, why would you accept anything in the Gospels? When tempted to doubt, bear in mind two important points. Firstly, if God is who he says he is, then anything is possible, however impossible it may seem to you. Secondly, the Bible is the pre-eminent source of Christian theology. A Christian undermining the Bible is like sawing off the branch you are sitting on. You may still believe in God but whatever you call yourself, you cannot correctly refer to yourself as a 'Christian.'

So as Christians we accept the Bible as infallible. However, infallible, but not always literal. Christians down the ages have accepted that some parts of the Bible are allegorical, illustrations not intended to be taken literally. Yes, the Bible is infallible but sometimes our interpretation is not. If scientific discovery reveals a clear truth apparently at odds with the Bible, we need to review our interpretation. Whilst some believe that scientists stretch it beyond its rational limit, most modern Christians accept that the theory of evolution is a reality and therefore valuable in helping us to understand God's creative processes on the earth. When Darwin discovered it, he helped us to see the 'how'. The 'who' remained the same. Interesting, if you read the creation account in Genesis, you will see that the order of creation, from vegetation for humanity, is the same as described by evolution!

However, the point is that the creation account in Genesis is indeed the inspired word of God, suitable for all teaching and guidance (2 Timothy 3:16), but scientific discovery suggests to me that it should not be taken as a literal description of creation. The Genesis story of creation is full of timeless wisdom and cannot be legitimately jettisoned by any right-thinking Christian. But accepting an allegorical interpretation takes nothing away from the value of the teaching contained within it and in no way undermines the Christian narrative.

A dogged refusal to accept anything but a literal interpretation of the creation account is in my view very damaging. In the face of overwhelming scientific evidence that the earth is more than 4 billion years old some Christians continue to insist that it is in fact just 6,000 years old, citing evidence in the Bible. This 'calculated' age is presumably based on conventional 24 hour earth days. In the Genesis account, the 24 hour daily cycle was not actually created until the 4th Biblical 'day'. God is outside time and space. So, clearly the Biblical seven days of creation are not the same as days as we understand them (2 Peter 3:8).

Further, the weight of scientific evidence means that insisting on a 6,000 year age requires a Christian to suspend their God-given intelligence. In the Parable of the Talents (Matthew 25:14-30), Jesus takes an extremely dim view of the servant that fails to use his intelligence. No, God has given us a brain and we should use it. The science-refusing view is also damaging to Christianity generally because it is seen as ridiculous. If satellites and astronauts had not proven beyond all doubt that the Earth is round, would we still be arguing that it is flat? After all Isaiah 11:12 says "He will gather the dispersed of Judah from the four corners of the Earth." OK, Isaiah 40:22 also says "It is he who sits above the circle of the Earth." but you get my drift.

Making Christianity appear ridiculous, however unintentionally, can drive people who otherwise could be enquirers away, contrary to our Christian duty (Matthew 28:19-20). It can also create an intellectual barrier for people. We should be leading people to the faith, not creating problems for them (Luke 11:46). I am sure that decent, devout Christians who take this view feel they are defending the faith from an atheistic onslaught but God really is big enough to defend himself. If we believe that Christ is who he says he is, we must also accept that rigorous scienctific study will never disprove Christianity. In behaving this way, we imitate the enemies of Christianity. Secular scientists who, having realised that the conditions in the universe are fine tuned for life to an extent that is effectively impossible - making a supernatural cause the only sensible explanation - counter by saying that there must therefore be an infinite number of universes, despite having no evidence whatsoever for such a fanciful idea. Faced with a truth that apparently conflicts with their faith, they resort to nonsense. Christians should not be behaving in the same way.
So, Christians have nothing to fear from science. Indeed, we can celebrate the rich joint heritage of science and Christianity. If sensible and robust scientific study appears to conflict with a Christian concept, we should retain our confidence in the faith and seek God's interpretative guidance. We defend the faith by seeking truth, whether in the Bible, or the laboratory.

Arghhhhh! Don't they know about the deficit!

We like people to be safe, don't we? Of course! Today whilst driving along the A24 I noticed a tractor cutting the verges. Very sensibly, stationed behind it was a vehicle with a 12 foot high flashing sign and an impact absorbing device on the rear. Well, you can't be too careful. But oh, I suppose it is theoretically possible in broad daylight with good visibility to miss a 12 foot high flashing sign. Tell you what, just to be doubly sure, let's station another vehicle 100 yards back with another flashing sign. And, sure enough, 100 yards further down, there it was, another vehicle.

Comforted that my local council take the safety of drivers and grass-cutting staff very seriously, I drove on. Then I passed another vehicle a further 100 yards on. Flashing signs etc. Then another. Then another!!!

In what world exactly do the council road safety staff think it necessary to station four, yes FOUR, vehicles behind a tractor cutting the verges?

I would love to have been a fly on the wall in that meeting:

"We've decided we should have a special impact absorbing vehicle with a 12 foot flashing sign behind the tractor."
"Good idea. But what if a driver is a distracted. They might be from a racial minority. They might not see it until it's too late, and then they might sue us for not considering the needs of racial minority drivers."
"Good point. I'll tell you what, we'll station an extra safety vehicle 100 yards further back. When the racial minority driver sees that, then they will know to look out ahead for the main safety vehicle."
"Good idea. But what if the racial minority driver is distracted when passing extra safety vehicle. They might be gay. And then they might not see the main safety vehicle until it's too late, and then they might sue us for not considering the needs of gay racial minority drivers."
"Good point. I'll tel you what, we'll station an extra extra safety vehicle behind the extra safety vehicle. When the gay racial minority driver sees that, then they wil know to look out for the extra safety vehicle ahead warning them of the main safety vehicle."
"Good idea. But what if the gay racial minority driver is distracted when passing the extra extra safety vehicle. They might be a women. And then they might not see the main safety vehicle until it's too late, and then they might sue us for not considering the needs women gay racial minority drivers."
"Good point. I'll tell you what, we'll station an extra extra extra safety vehicle behind the extra extra safety vehicle behind the extra safety vehicle. When the women gay racial minority driver sees that, then they will know to look out for the extra extra safety vehicle warning them of the extra safety vehicle warning them of the main safety vehicle."
"That should do it."
"Mmmm."
"Won't that be rather expensive."
"Is that the sandwich van......"

Reflections on a Dance Class

When my beloved suggested going to ballroom dance classes, I thought, well, we could give it a go. Might be fun. But often things in life are more complicated than they first appear....



I should really have heeded the first sign of danger and made a quick escape at the very first lesson when the male dance teacher demonstrated the basic steps of the Cha Cha Cha. Back and forth, side to side with such exaggerated arm flourishes than the entire class of fresher students burst out laughing. Is that what I'm expected to do? I was filled with horror.

You see, it's a difficult time to be a man at the moment. We want to be modern men - sensitive, able to cry, lover of potpourri. But to be honest I can't tell my Mandarin Clove from my Soft Vanilla. It's no longer cool to be the strong silent type. Camp and sensitive is cool.

As the father of three girls, I've even considered whether becoming gay could earn me some much needed cool points. Apparently, it's so cool that even my wife wouldn't mind. We wouldn't have sex anymore but we could have many intimate moments discussing soft furnishings and Kylie Minogue. But it's not really the same. And the fact is that none of the Village People really do it for me and I get in a terrible muddle when I try to spell out YMCA with my arms.

I do have one trait in common with the modern metrosexual man - I'm hopeless at DIY. I was very encouraged some years ago when a study concluded that men who are rubbish at DIY must be great in bed, as this was the only explanation for their women hanging on to them. When I read this out to my wife she enthusiastically agreed with the conclusion. Well, OK, she said 'Yes, of course dear' without making eye contact but it was enough for me. So, DIY incompetence aside, I don't think I fit the bill for modern man and I can tell that my failure to use Nivea for Men doesn't go down well in social circles. I feel almost compelled to drag my knuckles along the floor when I admit to my love of Match of the Day and my 50" plasma TV. (And it's not compensatory. As I say, I'm rubbish at DIY.)

Back to the dance class. We've been going for some time now and over the months I have observed that there are two types of women who attend these classes. The first type, and to be fair this is most of them, want to wear pretty frocks and glide gracefully across the dancefloor. Quite how my wife expects to attain any level of gracefulness with me clinging to her is beyond me. A ballet dancer and a chimp comes to mind. The second type, as far as I can tell, seem to attend primarily in order to touch men they hardly know in a very inppropriate manner. You might think that I wouldn't mind this but the fact is that the over-sexed women in this second group are generally considerably more butch than any of the Village People. I know this is not saying much but I'm simply not going to dance with a person if I'm not 100% certain what gender they are.

Quite apart from a constant fear of ending up in the arms of John Prescott in drag, there are other complications with this dancing lark. We go on a Friday night after dinner. Now, when you get to a certain age, you like to have your dinner, sit down in your favourite chair and, well, let your digestion take place. Instead, I'm rushed off to do vigorous gyrations in a sports hall. The inevitable occurs. Quick, quick, slow, fart. Quick, quick, slow, fart, fart, fart. I try to keep other couples away by flinging my arms around wildly, doing my best to make it look like part of the routine, but sometimes couples do stray within the danger zone. All that's left to do is look horrified at my wife in a vain attempt to deflect the blame. Not very chivalrous, I know, but what can you do....

The difference between male and female attitudes amuses me. Most of the women want to quickly get to Strictly Come Dancing standard, whilst most of the men just muddle along. Myself, I've resolved to at least surpass Anne Widdecombe standard. I seriously doubt that I'll reach the heady heights of John Sargeant. Some of the men, whatever dance we're meant to be doing - waltz, tango, rumba etc - always look like they are doing the classic 'Dad at the wedding disco'dance. In a similar vein, one couple always look like they are at a barn dance. Sometimes, I'm tempted to shout do-si-do! just to see what would happen. Perhaps they would suddenly break into a perfect Vienese waltz.

So, think twice before taking up this passtime. If you are considering it, let me help you by giving you brief instructions on the most popular dances:

Jive - Hop back and forth energetically but at all costs avoid, as I did, catching sight of yourself in a reflection as you will not be able to get Funky Chicken out of your head from that point on.

Vienese Waltz - Rock back and forth and spin around until you feel sick. Easy.

Samba - Pretend you are running over very hot sand without your flip-flops on.

Tango - Thrust yourself vigorously toward your lady in a manner completely unacceptable for public view. I quite like this one.

Foxtrot - Wander around the room taking random and aimless steps. I seem to have cracked this one but my wife insists I am not doing it 'properly'.

Paso Doble - Act like a cross between a penguin and a matador. But quite why you would want to imitate an animal tormenting bastard is beyond me.

Cha Cha Cha - Sorry, I can't help with this one because they keep adding steps to it and now I can't remember any of it.

Rumba - Exactly like the Cha Cha Cha but in slow motion.

To be honest, this probably tells you all you need to know, so I suggest you settle down and have you dinner. It's far less dangerous.

Why 'I agree with Nick'

I confess, dear reader, that my title is a little misleading. As I write, I do not agree with Nick, but I do agree with the pre-general election Nick. Do you remember those halcyon days? A time when Nick Clegg was feted as the new and refreshing face of British politics, when every major politician was keen to declare that 'I agree with Nick'?

To be honest, I have had a long-standing dislike for the Liberal Democrats. I find it difficult to put my finger on exactly what it is I have disliked about the party. I think it partly a reaction to a smugness that is very easy to exhibit when in permanent opposition, never having to face the real and difficult decisions of power. This was demonstrated most vividly by their so-called 'principled stand' on Iraq. There is nothing principled about standing against a widely unpopular war. At best, it is reflecting prevailing opinion, at worse, jumping on a bandwagon. But there is nothing especially principled about such a position. Of course, making a decision that you feel is right when opinion is against you, when you will be vilified for years to come, now that could be considered a principled stand. But I want to talk about Nick, not Tony.

Of course that smugness borne of permanent opposition has come back to haunt the party in the tuition fees debate. I assure you that I get no pleasure from saying 'I told you so' to those people who voted Liberal Democratic on the strength of their much publicised 'pledge' to remove tuition fees within 6 years. The issue is too serious for such luxuries.

The sense of betrayal that those (mostly young) voters now feel is completely understandable. Clegg's facile attempts to justify his volt face - 'we didn't win the election', 'we didn't realise things were so bad', just do not wash. Students may be young but they are not stupid. It is easy to understand that in a coalition you have to make compromises. But a compromise requires movement to the middle ground, not movement to the most extreme position. It is a very long way from abolishing fees in 6 years to permanently trebling them! No, students feel betrayed and let down, and rightly so.

Prior to the election, it is on this very issue that I was able to find a rare opportunity to say 'I agree with Nick'. In his now infamous You Tube video, he said it would be 'a disaster' to load tens of thousand of pounds of debt onto students. I agree with Nick. Of course, he does not say that now. I wonder what has changed? Certainly, the financial means of the students has not. Oh, but the intoxication of power....

But would such a 'principled' politician really lead the country into 'a disaster' in return for a grand job title and a ministerial car? There can really only be three explanations for his behaviour. Either he is intellectually incapable of understanding the issue, so he sways in the wind depending on who he talking to, or he was being completely dishonest in his You Tube video, or he is in fact prepared to betray students in return for power. Nobody really believes that this Cambridge graduate is too stupid to understand the issue, so we are left with  a rather unpalatable choice between a liar and a scoundrel. Do you think I am being too harsh? I am afraid that any objective analysis of the situation confirms Clegg's initial 'disaster' diagnosis. I say objective because I am excluding extremist Tory opinion that holds that we should not be sending so many students to university - an opinion driven by dogma rather than objective analysis.

Interestingly, the main reason why the new fees will indeed be a disaster is because of the inherent unfairness of the system, which is ironic bearing in mind that Liberal Democrats major pitch to the nation was based on fairness - the word 'fair', or derivations of it, was used 121 times in the Liberal Democrat manifesto. However, the word fair has quietly been dropped in favour of the more ambiguous word 'progressive', meaning that the poor will pay less than the rich. But progressive does not necessarily mean fair and it is unfairness that people react so violently against. Let me explain some of the unfairness:

• The higher education teaching budget has been slashed by a staggering 80% and this is the main reason for the need to treble fees. You may well respond that times are tough and everybody needs to contribute to the deficit reduction. However, if you are a young person just stepping out on adult life, it is going to feel very unfair that you have to face a near life-long debt to obtain a degree when the adults around you got theirs completely free. And these are the same adults that ran up the deficit in the first place. It is like the opposite of leaving money in your will. I am not going to leave you anything. In fact, I am going to leave you huge debts that you will have to pay off for me. But do not worry, I had a great time running them up!
• Under concessions rushed out in an attempt to placate opinion, students with poor parents could get as much as two thirds of their total fees paid for them. But what exactly has the parents wealth got to do with the student's ability to repay the tuition fees? A student from a poor family could end up with a job in the city earning millions, while a student from a middle class family could end up in a low paid job. But the city banker will have his fees largely paid for him.
• To add insult to injury, if you live in Wales, you will not have to pay any increase, even if you study at an English university. And in Scotland, there are no fees at all. This despite the fact that we all pay the same income tax rates.

It is all grossly unfair and will undoubtedly lead to a large reduction in the number of students attending university. No doubt dogma-driven Tories will nod with approval but the long term damage to our economy could be devastating. China produces 6 million graduates each year and India is not far behind. We can no longer compete with these countries in our factories, which is why much of our manufacturing industry has disappeared. We have to complete with our brainpower. If we fail to do this, our engineering, medical and pharmaceutical indusrties will follow manufacturing.

So, I agree with Nick - it is a disaster.

My New Blog

I am so pleased to have joined the blogging generation. I am confident of getting a least 2-3 readers per annum. I am now free to go off middle-aged rants without having to endure the rolling eyes of the 4 wiser and more balanced women that it is my privilege to share my life with!