It’ll do our spoiled young Remainers good to remain in Britain for the summer holidays
STRANGE though it sounds, I felt a little gleeful when I heard the news that foreign summer holidays will not be going ahead this year.
Of course my heart goes out to all the hard-working parents longing for a week in the European sunshine with their families.
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But I can’t help thinking a summer spent in Britain will do our spoiled metropolitan millennials a world of good.
Why? Because having spent their formative years jet-setting around the world, far too many of them are mind-bogglingly and unashamedly stupid about their own country.
Take my old university flatmate as an example.
After “gap-yearing” in Borneo and Bali, he turned up in the ancient, bustling city of York laden with so much fancy coffee making equipment it looked like he was carrying the whole of Starbucks on his back.
When questioned, he casually revealed that as a born and bred Londoner he’d never travelled north of Wembley before — and wasn’t quite sure if cafes existed “up here”.
He’s not the only one.
Living in London over the past five years, I’ve met a postgraduate student who confused Birmingham with Newcastle (“what’s the difference? They’re both up North”), a globe-trotting teenager who thought Glastonbury was in Wales, and — most bizarrely of all — a confident young lawyer utterly convinced that the Lake District was a fictional place.
On the face of it, their ignorance is laughable. And I’ll admit, I didn’t correct the lawyer (I want to see the look on his face when he gets sent to Cumbria on business).
But there’s a darker side to it. A generation of young city dwellers who know nothing about Britain were always bound to underestimate our four great nations.
And so they did in the 2016 referendum.
The overlap between London and the Remain campaign has been well documented — 60 per cent of the capital voted in favour of remaining in the EU.
OVERWHELMING SUPPORT FOR EU
Among London’s student population, the depth of support for the EU was overwhelming.
And with some ultra-liberal friends, there were moments when it would have seemed easier to come out as a paedophile than a Brexiteer.
Of course, ardent young Remainers convinced themselves that their love of the European Union was borne out of a sophisticated appreciation of all things global.
But it seems more likely to me that they saw the EU as the saviour to a backwards, grisly country they imagined in their ignorance to be Britain.
This summer, that ignorance could finally be shattered.
Thanks to Covid-19, the nation’s young people won’t have the option of scurrying to Heathrow the second their uni exams are over.
Instead — if they want holidays at all — they’ll be minibreaking in Manchester or camping in the English countryside.
Yes, they might turn their noses up at rolling hills, stunning architecture and incredible free museums.
But I have a sneaking suspicion they’ll be surprised and impressed with what they find beyond the confines of the M25.
And, reconnected to their roots at last, they might just begin to feel the first stirrings of patriotism running through their British veins.
Eating time online
TOO much time on social media is making me potty.
When the Government published its new guidelines for lockdown in England, I – like the rest of Twitter – found myself getting very worked up about whether or not I’m allowed to play tennis with someone outside of my household.
The problem, as my mum gently reminded me, is that in my case it’s a bit of a moot point: I’ve never played tennis before and I’m not entirely sure how to hold a racket.
I doubt either my housemate or my friends will be begging for a game any time soon.
Welfare is all relative
IT’S not often I find myself welling up at the radio. But LBC caller Liz, from Witham, Essex, got me in the gut this week.
Through uncontrollable tears, she explained that if coronavirus didn’t kill her, being forbidden from touching her grand-children surely would.
She’s not alone. After nearly two gruelling months of lockdown, millions of us are experiencing real, gut-wrenching loneliness.
They don’t like to complain – they know their suffering is dwarfed by that of frontline health and care staffers. But starved of the company of those they love, they are withering like plants out of sunshine.
You’d expect a Conservative government instinctively to get this. For generations, Tory MPs have told us that family is crucially important to the functioning of the UK.
They’ve thrown their weight behind policies designed to strengthen families and made many moving speeches about how a family unit is more than the sum of its parts.
But it seems all that was just for show. For in their admirable haste to propel Brits back to work, this Government seems to have forgotten about families altogether.
Boris Johnson’s Sunday night speech – stuffed full of specific advice for workers – didn’t have a single word of hope for single adult relatives craving each other’s company.
And the millions of young adults longing to know when they can next hug Mum will have been bitterly disappointed.
Of course, the PM is right to say we need to get the economy going again.
Forecasts from the Treasury on the upcoming recession could hardly be more alarming – and despite the best efforts of Chancellor Rishi Sunak and his bailouts, millions of businesses will go bust if they can’t get up and running again soon.
But if we’re expected to get up close with colleagues for the sake of the economy, surely we should get to see those we love best for the sake of our mental health?
The people of Britain are humans, not cash cows. And if they are to get through this long, draining war in one piece, they need the support of the people they love.
No Brucey bonus...
LISTENING to BBC News anchor Fiona Bruce casually describe carers as “low-skilled workers” really set my teeth on edge.
To the shame of this nation, care home staff are indeed low paid.
But low skilled? I reckon plenty of them would be more than capable of reading the news from an autocue for £250,000 a year.
And I’d like to see coiffed Fiona feed, clean and comfort a newly widowed dementia sufferer without losing her cool.
’appily ever after
FOR the best part of the past decade, bespectacled “experts” gravely predicted that online dating would kill romance.
Apps – they told us – would transform the dating scene into an endless virtual marketplace where singles could shop for each other (like an Amazon for human companionship), or else would turn dating into a minimal-effort pursuit of on-demand hook ups (like an Uber for sex).
How wrong they were.
Rather than bonking their way round new digital acquaintances, millennial Brits in the 21st Century spend their downtime uploading photos and biographies to their smartphones and earnestly looking for love.
And my, do they succeed.
Last year a whopping 39 per cent of newly married couples met online, and Hinge – the dating app geared towards lifelong relationships – is gaining users faster than any of its competitors.
Granted, these apps aren’t perfect.
We all like a good romance story, and Dad messaging Mum with a winky face because he liked her bikini selfie is hardly the stuff of Hollywood.
But now that flirting in the pub is a thing of the past, let’s thank our lucky stars that the country’s poor singles have a shot at love at all.
Made with love
IT fills me with hope that apps dedicated to selling hand-made goods have soared in popularity during lockdown.
Rather than sitting on the sofa twiddling their thumbs, furloughed folk have been busy sculpting, chiselling and painting – and selling the fruits of their labours online.
These plucky, small-time entrepreneurs are the very best of Britain.
And with them around, I have no doubt this country will be back on its feet in no time.
Normal tipples?
I’M absolutely loving Normal People on BBC3.
The chemistry between Marianne (Daisy Edgar-Jones) and Connell (Paul Mescal) is really quite something.
And as an ode to young love, the whole thing is pitch-perfect.
In fact, my only quibble is why on earth are all the characters so darn sophisticated?
They’re 19, for goodness sake.
Let’s see fewer candle-lit, red wine-soaked dinner parties and more tins of warm Foster’s.
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