DO IT YOURSELF, MATE!

One of the many illusions we live under is that today’s Briton has an easy life compared to that of his parents’ and grandparents’ generation. There is some truth in this – certainly communications have been markedly improved, dire poverty greatly alleviated, labour-saving gadgets introduced and distances radically shortened. But there are downsides to progress which may give us pause - not all is perfect in our little garden.

The old ways had their conveniences. A middle class wife might in say, 1950, drive to the grocer, followed by the baker, fruiterer and butcher and recite her shopping-list. The shop-keeper would be all politeness and attend to her every whim. Smaller items would be wrapped up for the customer to take away and anything bulky would be delivered promptly by van or butcher’s boy bike to the customer’s house and stored away by the cook or housemaid. The whole process could be done by telephone, and often was. A weekly or even monthly invoice would be rendered and paid regularly. Pretty painless for the dutiful wife!

A visit to the grocer in the 1950s

Contrast that with our 2018 shopper. She goes to a vast supermarket – the grocer, baker, fruiterer and butcher long out of business. Aisle upon aisle laden with produce, but you have got to find what you want, select them yourself and fill your wire trolley and push it around. No service, no expert advice, no help, no distinctive atmosphere. The check-out staff know nothing about the products and care even less. You actually have to buy the bags to carry your goods away and no loading help is offered. Their job is to collect your money and your payment card is debited long before you have left the premises. Then the lady has to trudge home and take the purchases out of the car and unaided lug them home (possibly up-stairs) and pack them away. She is exhausted, requiring heroic doses of gin and tonic to revive, and many a husband/partner has to sacrifice his time to lend a hand. The 1950s housewife had it a good deal easier.

The supermarket - convenient but soul-less

Two great revolutions lie at the root of this new situation. The first is the end of domestic service as a significant part of the economy. I had the good fortune to be born into the purple of the Aberdeen commercial classes. My father was a cinema and theatre proprietor and was comfortably prosperous. Like a million other middle-class households we had a live-in housemaid and a cook in the 1940s and 1950s, reducing to a single housemaid in the 1960s, and then nobody. Daily ladies helped to keep the substantial house spotless and an odd-job man washed cars and ran errands. In time better opportunities came along and many could earn a fatter wage elsewhere, leaving the leisured bourgeoisie to cope on their own.

The second revolution was the severe diminution in the supply of tradesmen. Fifty years ago there was an army of painters, joiners, plumbers and electricians ready to do residential work at a fair price. But they became more expensive as more regular and higher value work took centre stage, they became more regulated, less accommodating and much scarcer or degenerated into cowboy outfits. As a consequence the DIY movement took hold and highly competent bankers and lawyers became second-rate wallpaper hangers and lethal amateur electricians.

Wheelie-bin blight

Minor inconveniences still rankle. In earlier days the dustbins were not much handled by the householder and the weekly collection involved the dustman carrying your dustbin to his cart and returning it to its allotted place. Now you are ordered to push the ugly wheelie-bin to the edge of your property where a fortnightly (if you are lucky) collection is made and you do all the bin-moving.  Complex recycling edicts are issued to make your life even more stressful and your acquaintance with bin-contents more intimate. The traditionally comforting clink of milk-bottles delivered on your doorsteps is often a distant memory – supermarket packaged milk somehow does not have the same cachet.  

Not that our forebears were inexperienced at do-it-yourself. “Make do and mend” was a common motto, socks would be darned, hems would be raised, buttons would be sewn. Now we live with a generation impatient of stringing out the life of clothes. My favourite cardigan, worn and aged but much cherished, is consigned to the dustbin. I am a fan of elbow-pads for my sweaters, much disparaged and mocked for my pains. Fancy outfits must have built-in obsolescence as they seem to last 3 years at best, whilst my beady eye would assume a minimum of 10.

The contrasts between Then and Now run deeper. We now live in compact “nuclear” family units, very self-sufficient but in danger of being introverted. We turn our back on the extended family with its occasional kind aunts or wicked uncles. Children must miss their interesting cousins and a broad ready-made circle of acquaintance. The older generation always needs a little cossetting and confused old Granny in her rocking chair can easily be tolerated, if the burden is shared – packing her off to a home is surely a last resort. “No act of kindness, however small, is ever wasted” taught Aesop.

A cheerful modern family

May we stop whingeing and make the most of our fascinating lives close to the warmth of family and friends!

SMD

27.04.18

Text Copyright © Sidney Donald 2018