Measuring our Happiness?

        So Prime Minister David Cameron has decided he needs to "measure the nation’s happiness". Basically what makes the people happy will tell the government what to do to keep the people on their side!  The question is of course, what defines happiness? Mr Cameron has hastened to add that this is not a question about politics, but rather how happy are the people of Britain in themselves. How ‘happy’ are they with their health? Their family situation? Their future? Their social life? And it has to come up: their financial status?

        The journalists have picked this last bullet up quickly and gone out on to the streets of Britain asking the nation: “Happiness or Money?” Of course the people will say Happiness; they know that money doesn’t provide everything they need. They’ve seen miserable millionaires, billionaires commit suicide, and emotionless faces of the rich and famous splashed across tabloid pages. It’s also the ‘right’ thing to say. We don’t want to look greedy or materialistic on camera! So with a superficial laugh, 99% of the people say they’d rather be happy than be rich.

       What I haven’t heard being asked after this initial question is: “What will make you happy?”  I’m almost positive that a very high percentage of answers to that question will contain the word: Money!

Sights & Sounds in a London Suburb Friday 8am

* Diamond sparkling spider-webs on emerald green hedges;

* Motley group of scarf, hat and boot brigade waiting at the bus stop (and I know some are only going one stop further, just around the corner!)

* Carefree, once light-coloured mongrels tearing between the trees in the park, skidding on wet leaves and grass and kicking mud up into the cold sunshine’s rays.

* Girl, about 11 or 12 years old, walking up to school door, Dad standing at car door on the street. “Just one more?” he calls gently. She turns slightly as I pass the open gateway. “Try?” he pleads, “Just one more?” She slips into the building and he walks around the car. What was all that about, I wonder?

* Two uniformed officers pace around the one-way entrance to the road where Nick Clegg, Deputy Prime Minister, lives – wonder where he’s going today?

* Dads rushing towards the nursery school in business suits, duffel-coats and Harris Tweed scarves pushing buggies of squirming toddlers. Or tightly holding on to an excited, jumpy three-year old, all smiles and excited about going to school. Or trying to tightly hold on to a two-year old throwing a temper tantrum about not being picked up and carried. Two-year old being sternly disciplined in foreign language!

* Builders & painters (paint on overalls) striding down the pavement with paper cups of Nero’s coffee. Foreign? British? No conversation this morning, no clues!

* Worker-looking group standing on corner pointing, animatedly planning the day’s work. Foreigners? Nah, British face! As I get closer and hear the plans – they're foreign. Got that one wrong!

* Busy traffic light intersection: long lorries going through almost red lights and getting stuck in the middle of the intersection. Hooting from impatient VW Golf driver squeezing past and maybe getting a scratch on back bumper. More hoots as commuters having just climbed off a late bus dash across the road to catch the next mode of transport.

** The sun, rising like a squashed ball of light between the buildings at the end of the street, rising, rising and then free in the white-washed blue winter sky.

There’s always something to see in London!

The Other End of Courtesy!

London is notorious for overcrowding on public transport. I am so very, very thankful that I don't have to take a tube or train to get to work. In fact I don't have to use any form of motorised transport to get to work - I can walk! But after a frustrating day at work, when the English winter has set in, it's dark at 4.30pm, cold, windy, etc. etc. etc. the last thing I want to do is walk for half an hour! Yes, I know it's good exercise, blah, blah blah, but I do that in the morning - 7.30 or 8am. It's a very special time to be out and watch the squirrels still darting about, hear the blackbirds, the blue tits, and every now and then the woodpecker. 

But I'm digressing; I caught the bus home today. It wasn't too full and I aimed for my favourite seat which was still vacant. However having just sat down, a lady older than me padded tiredly down the aisle of the bus and I immediately stood up and offered her my seat. "Are you sure?" she asked surprised and her dark, very wrinkly face lit up. Of course I was sure! I still believe in good manners and 'old fashioned' courtesy - unlike some creatures of the male sex - gentleman is too nice a word for some of them! - one sees on the busses day in and day out. Yes I know they say that they have stood up for ladies in the past but have been treated as if they had been grossly insulting, so the men have given up being polite, it's too embarrassing.

Anyway, so I stood up - just as the bus decided to lurch forward of course - and almost immediately another Lady, probably about 15 years my junior, stood up and offered ME her seat! I made some funny comment about all swapping places, we smiled, and I took the seat offered.

Which reminded me of a conversation about a week ago when a gentlemen about 10 years my senior (not giving anything away here, but you get the picture!) was telling us that someone offered him a seat on his train journey into work. His reaction was one of amusement and surprise that someone had considered him 'old' enough to be offered a seat! He said he was quite put out!

It's no wonder the 'younger' generation don't appear to have any manners or know the meaning of politeness and courtesy - they are discouraged from being polite and courteous! No, I didn't get all morbid about being 'old' enough to be offered a seat (and it was a lady who offered, please note!), I was just pleased to know there are still some Londoners who are kind, friendly and polite!

(The only pic we have of 'my' bus - photo by Megan in winter 2009!)