Early Disclosers

 Twice recently – and many, many times in the less recent past – people I have only just met have, within minutes, informed me, in no uncertain terms, of their political affiliations. The first of the more recent declarations came when the man who was guiding me through the intricacies of keeping a listening diary for RAJAR (the radio audience research outfit – I had rashly agreed to record my listening for them) suddenly informed me, quite out of the blue, that he was one of the few who had voted Green in the last general election. He then, unprompted, told me why. As if I cared, let alone agreed... On the second occasion, it was a near neighbour, who, almost in the same breath as introducing himself to me, informed me that 'we' (himself and missus) 'are very left wing'. As he expanded on this, it became clear that he is some kind of Christian Socialist, one who takes seriously the absurd notion that 'Jesus was the first Communist'. Perfectly nice chap, but why did he feel compelled to tell me his political opinions with such alacrity. Why does anyone? The least interesting thing about most people is their opinions, and the least interesting of those are usually the political ones. But those who are so keen to declare their affiliations have, I notice, one thing on common: they are invariably of the 'Left'. I think this is in part because, unlike anyone of a conservative bent, they act on the assumption that all decent, civilised-seeming people must agree with them – how could they not? I don't recall anyone who could be categorised as conservative ever treating me to their political opinions on first meeting – partly as a matter of good manners, and partly, no doubt, because they know they are unlikely to find a kindred spirit in any gathering of 'thinking' or 'creative' people.
  Personally, I work on the assumption that nobody present is likely to agree with me, and this doesn't bother me in the slightest; I'm quite happy to be in a minority of one, to stay quiet and avoid the unpleasantness and sheer tedium of political debate. And I'm never going to fall out with anyone over their political opinions (unless they are blatantly antisemitic). But maybe I'm taking the wrong tack: maybe I should join the early disclosers and loudly declare on first meeting, 'My name is Nige and I am, like my father before me, a violent Tory of the old school.'  Not that I am, but it's what that socialist hero John Ruskin declared himself to be, in the opening sentence of his autobiography, Praeterita. But no, I'll keep quiet.
  Meanwhile, I was pleased to read that the new leader of the Conservative party, Kemi Badenoch, numbers among her inspirations Thomas Sowell and Roger Scruton. It looks like a promising sign, but who knows?

Another Country

 It was on this day in 1959 – 65 years ago, when I was rising ten years old – that Britain's first stretch of interurban motorway was opened, inevitably by publicity-hungry Transport Minister Ernest Marples (that's him in the picture, looking on the latest of his works, and no doubt feeling the hand of history on his shoulder). The section that was opened on this momentous day ran from Junction 5 (Watford) to Junction 18 (Crick/Rugby). It was a nice little motorway, with soft shoulders, no crash barriers, no speed limits, no lighting – and, by modern standards, virtually no cars. It was a popular entertainment in those days to watch what traffic there was going by on these startlingly wide (three-lane) roads. Yet again I find myself reaching for that well-worn phrase 'another world' – but it was another world, or at least another country, before the motor car finally took over, ruining many of our town and city centres, and clogging those once half-deserted highways with nose-to-tail traffic at all hours of the day and night. When I was at school, many, probably most, of the teachers didn't have cars, and came and went by bicycle or bus; nowadays not only the teachers but many of the older pupils drive to and from school – and many of the younger ones are picked up by parents in cars, an almost unheard-of thing in my day. 
   I remember 1959 for two other notable innovations – the unveiling of the first Minis (the Morris Mini-Minor and the Austin Seven – and mini they were, tiny by today's standards) and the first hovercraft. Both British inventions and both manufactured in Britain. As I say, another world...