New Statesman Scotland
One of this diary's television acquaintances once made a film starring (or at least featuring) Prince Charles. The point of the programme was to demonstrate HRH's concern for the flora and fauna and natural beauty of the Highlands. In his speeches to camera, HRH sternly warned that one of Europe's last great wildernesses was under threat from global warming, radioactive fallout, atmospheric pollution, thoughtless farming and all the other horrors we seem to be visiting on the land.
Fair enough. The bens and glens of the Highlands make up a fragile ecology, goodness knows. But the trouble was, every time the Prince was needed in front of the camera he arrived on location in his own helicopter. And helicopters, as anyone with a modicum of engineering knows, are the biggest and noisiest gas-guzzlers on the planet. Pound for pound, they do more polluting than almost any other device known to humankind.
This recollection set this diary ruminating. A short time ago, Prince Charles was admonishing the world's scientists to be more caring and "spiritual" towards the world we inhabit. This from a man who lives in a collection of elaborately lit and heated palaces and mansions, who never moves except by huge limousines, private trains, private airliners or private helicopters (or some combination thereof), having the nerve to lecture the world on the thoughtless use of natural resources. The words "bloody" and "cheek" sprang to mind.
Recently, the Scotsman published a photograph that invoked, in this diarist, a mixture of nostalgia and bitterness. It was an Edinburgh street-scene of the early 1950s showing a dozen kids playing happily on a cobbled street in what looks like the Old Town. Nothing unusual really, except for the sign over their heads. It reads: "Children's playground no vehicles please 4pm till sunset." It is a snapshot of something that used to be common in the capital - play-streets. From the time Edinburgh kids came out of school to the time it got dark, certain streets in every district were set aside for their use. As a result, street games flourished: "three and in" football, levoy, kick the can, white horse, cuddie gie wey, to name just a few. It was a rich, intricate culture peculiar to children. All gone in one generation, thanks to our passion for the motor car.
This diary bets that none of the suits who drafted the Scotland Act of 1998 ever imagined that one of the first rows over Westminster's reserved powers (listed in Schedule 5) would be about plans for an over-the-hill American heavyweight boxer with a criminal record to fight another American second-rater in Scotland's "national" football stadium in Glasgow. Whether the fight goes ahead remains to be seen. This diary already has a fiver on ways and means to stop it happening. A combination of women's groups, MSPs, MPs, the Scottish media and Glasgow councillors is likely to see to that. The pressure on the duffers who run the Scottish Football Association, managers of Hampden Park, will be truly awesome.
But the politics of the affair are intriguing. It seems that before the Home Secretary, Jack Straw, decided to give the Tyson circus the thumbs up for a second round in Britain, he "consulted"(by telephone) both Scotland's Acting First Minister, Jim Wallace, and the Scottish Secretary, John Reid. Which poses two questions. Did Straw simply tell Justice Jim and Doctor John that the Tyson fight was on for Glasgow? Or did he seek their co-operation in making his decision, co-operation that they gave?
Certainly Justice Jim looked like he was on the back foot (as they say in boxing circles) when he was challenged by Alex Salmond in Holyrood.
Post this article to
We want to encourage people to comment on our content and to exchange views with other readers and hope this will be done on a courteous basis. However, if you encounter posts which are offensive please let us know by using the 'report this comment' facility or by emailing comments@newstatesman.co.uk and we will take swift action where necessary.
