Conversational Theology

I have just been recorded for Radio 4′s Feedback programme expressing my views or, as I like to think of them, ‘the views of the nation’, about the chairmanship of I’m Sorry I Haven’t A Clue. I now have all kinds of insider info about the programme and what might happen in the next series which I can’t possiby divulge. But if you want to hear what I think (or if you’re interested in hearing about what Jon Naismith has to say about it, or if you just want to hear the funniest moment from the last series again) listen in on Friday at 1.30pm or Sunday at 8pm, or via the iPlayer for the next week, or download the podcast and listen to it again and again and again and again….

Humphrey Lyttelton, jazz trumpeter, Old Etonian, ex-guardsman, and panel game host has died. I shall go home and listen to old I’m Sorry I Haven’t A Clue episodes in the sad knowledge that there will be no more to come.

Listening to Saturday Live this afternoon I was utterly flabbergasted by the listener piece on the evils of homework. Not because the six year old boy didn’t want to do any. Nor even because his father would rather take him out and kick around a football. Nor even at the frustration of the mother trying to get it done ‘for fear of what school would say’. No, I was taken aback by the bluntly honest abdication of all responsibility for their son’s education. Schools, apparently should teach, and parents should parent. It was hard to tell, but ‘parenting’ in this context seemed mainly to refer to having fun with one’s child. Because that’s what children are for, obviously: entertaining their parents.  Some grievance was expressed that schools were trying to ‘outsource a greater part of the educational process to parents.’  So that when children aren’t doing well, the finger of blame might be pointed at the parents.  ‘If the kid’s not doing well, the buck should stop with the teacher and the school, not the parent.’

I know people frequently behave in ways that indicate they take no responsibility for their children. But I don’t recall ever hearing it stated so baldly and with so little defence.

You can listen again on the Radio 4 website. It’s about 5 minutes in to the programme.

Thanks to Muriel Gray for clearly explaining both the responsibility of parents and the purpose of homework, after the end of the listener piece.

Pip Archer is fifteen years old.

And has a boyfriend.

In the Young Farmers.

Unbelievable.

I was just listening to the News Quiz and giggling at one of the cuttings about a woman who took second prize in a cake competition for which she was the only entrant. It reminded me of something I heard on the Archive Hour a couple of years ago about a children’s poetry competition run by the Home Service during WWII. The terribly posh announcer explained that there had been several thousand entrants for this competition but not one of them had been considered good enough to win the prize! He even illustrated this point by reading out some of the poems and explaining why they were so bad.

Can you imagine anyone daring to do that today?!  I thought it was wonderful.

I have Radio 4 playing live on my computer at the moment.  I have missed the shipping forecast so much.  I have never needed to know where any of these mysterious sounding places are, nor what the code is by which the forecast is described.  I just love the soothing rhythm of the announcements:

Dogger, southeast veering southwest 4 or 5, occasionally 6 later. Thundery showers. Moderate or good, occasionally poor.
North Utsire, South Utsire, Northeast 3 or 4. Occasional rain. Moderate or poor.
Rockall, Malin, Hebrides. Southwest gale 8 to storm 10, veering west, severe gale 9 to violent storm 11. Rain, then squally showers. Poor, becoming moderate.
Biscay, Trafalgar, Finisterre, North 7 to severe gale 9. Heavy snow showers. Good, becoming poor in showers. Moderate.

Magical.  Just in case there is any confusion, these are not the real forecasts for tonight.  I would hate to be the cause of any ships setting sail with false information.

And now, God Save The Queen.  I think I might stand up.