Taken for granted

I don't want to come over all right-wing and reactionary.  But  I was astonished at a piece in yesterday's Guardian online regarding the decline in chapel attendance in Wales ("Census and religions: churches lose their appeal in struggling Welsh valleys" Guardian online11/12/12).

Chris Phillips, from a cultural centre in Ebbw Vale, was quoted as saying: "A hundred and fifty years ago everyone worked in heavy industry. It was hard, dangerous work and there was a fair chance you wouldn't be coming home. When you did get home safely with a bit of money in your pockets, you were prepared to go and say thank you to God. 

"Frankly there's f*** all to be thankful of these days."

I take into account that life in that area, now devoid of industry and with high unemployment, is no doubt a lot tougher than some parts of the UK.

But "f*** all to be thankful of..." ?

I'm sure there was much more of a community feeling around in those rosy Victorian days.  But what about some of the benefits we enjoy today, compared with our whiskered great-grandparents (sorry great-grandma)?

Free health care, free education, universal welfare benefits, pensions for all, emergency services a phone call away, laws to protect workers, minimum wage, massively reduced work-place accidents and deaths, social housing, central heating, comparatively cheap foreign travel, supermarkets full of food, entertainment at the flick of a switch.  

I could go on.

"F*** all to be thankful of..."?  Really?

Unlocked voices

I’ve always believed in the power of music.  And on Tuesday evening it brought together two very disparate groups : life sentence prisoners in a local jail, and a collection of respectable men with (probably) no more than a few speeding convictions among them. 

We were in the prison (the inmates could hardly come to us, could they?) to join forces for a choral evening: the Brue Boys, and the prison choir, Voices Unlocked. 

I found it surprisingly moving and a reminder, which as a former probation officer I really shouldn’t need, of the humanity and friendliness of so many offenders.

Looking at their faces, it was hard not to wonder what they were in for, and what backgrounds they had. A couple were particularly confident and socially-skilled, which made the wondering even greater.   But many radiated that curious combination of naivety and experience : faces etched with hard living, but also with qualities that seemed almost child-like.   But perhaps that’s not surprising, given the appalling backgrounds of so many offenders, which can so often lead to emotional stunting. And personal responsibility is then pared by living in a total institution. 

But for one evening our two groups were joined in song.  It was touching just how well-received our contribution was.   One young man in the audience was beaming with pleasure, and came up afterwards to say the music had brought back good memories. And others seemed very glad of the chance just to chat over a cup of tea.

Then we went our separate ways : the lifers filed back to their wings, and we were unlocked into the street, and freedom.