On the Demise of British Highstreets

Before the days of the great corporate chain stores that now dominate our town centres, shopping used to be an eclectic and delightful experience full of surprise. Now it has become so predictable. One high street looks like all the others. Many of us don't even bother to walk the streets and look at the shop fronts that are meant to entice us outside. We stay in and shop online.

When I first started blogging it was just as the recession was really kicking in and I wrote about the fall of a much loved shop of mine called The Pier.

It was stocked with the most wonderful items from around the world. Although it was a chain, entering the premises was like walking into an Aladdin's cave. It was the closest I could get to the days when I was a lot younger, and independent small traders were the norm.

Today, with the recession still showing no signs of going, we are seeing the demise of the last of the independent traders as they struggle against the odds to stay afloat, whilst trying to compete with the corporate giants.

The recent riots in a suburban Bristol town over Tesco domination did not surprise me in the least. In my own local town there have been similar protests over Tesco placing yet another of its supermarkets in our small vicinity and the circumstances are very similar. Here we also have a much cherished and lively town centre, with individual and creative retailers and a thriving farmers' market selling local produce once a month. These smaller businesses are no match for Tesco and our lovely community will become a ghost town if something isn't done to redress a balance.

Although there is a demand for the larger chains, there is also it would seem, according to recent news reports, an increase in the number of shoppers who are seeking something just that little bit different. The little pockets of lively idiosyncratic trading that still persist around the country have a large influx of visitors every weekend, who are yearning for this alternative shopping route.

At our recent visit to the Norfolk town of Norwich we were delighted to see so much individuality in the older part of the city and wondered if this might in part be due to the fact that it doesn't have a major motorway leading directly to it. Maybe just this little bit of cut off from the main drag has been a blessing in disguise. The photo is of its lovely arts and crafts style shopping arcade.

It is also telling that the government is concerned that the number of shops in our town centres are empty and has recently asked Mary Portas, Queen of retail experience to undertake an investigation with suggestions to try and turn things around. I think that it is important that she achieves this before our society goes completely down the pan. It could be argued that these individual town centres allow for more diversity and therefore encourage greater community cohesion. Whether this is the case or not, it is our creative individuals, the craftspeople, designers, farmers and produce makers who make up a large proportion of the independent shop owners. These guys strive to discover and explore all that is new and to be savoured, often pulling against the current trends and establishing the stuff of the future. If they didn't, we will be churning out the 'same ol same ol' with little thought of our cultural and social well being so long as its cheep and cheerful.

And a further consideration are the number of times the superstores muscle in on a design or an idea, but will insist that in order to go into manufacture for as cheaply as possible, in the large quantities desired for profit margins, corners will have to be cut, compromise will have to be made and it is a rare instance that these decisions do not affect the quality of the original intention. One hates to think about the integrity of the design and where things stand if the designer were to pull out with regards to copyright. The demise of the farmer and the food producer and their tradings with the large supermarkets, has also been well documented, as being a far from pleasant experience. With reports of price undercutting and bullying tactics it is no wonder that British food producers are going under with the pressure.

There are therefore many, many reasons why I would like to see Ms Portas achieving a redress of balance in the retail industry, and I am keeping my fingers crossed and hoping. But if she is taking on the might of the retail giants I am not so sure that a winning smile and platitudes will be enough.

Down to Size

I've recently volunteered to help out at my local primary school. I want to return to peripatetic teaching and facilitating arts projects but as I've not been doing this for a number of years I need to build up my stamina again.

The kids I come into contact with are lovely and very well behaved. They sit for long periods of time having to listen quietly and stand queueing without fidgeting or talking for what must seem ages to them.

The average class has 30 children with very disparate abilities and not all of them have English as their first language. I sense that there is frustration amongst them sometimes. Some have to be patient and wait for the less able to catch up whilst others who are slower might feel very frustrated and maybe in their own little ways a tad dispirited.

I haven't been there for very long but I already admire the children which is a bit of a turnaround to how I thought I was going to react. I thought that my sympathies were going to lie with the teachers and what they are having to cope with, although don't get me wrong they are also doing a sterling job against the odds.

These five and six year olds however could teach many adults a thing or two, especially drivers on our roads that impatiently barge around and push in whilst others do not seem to be at all concerned about poodling along with a tail back of traffic behind them. And queueing for the bus no longer seems to exist, more of a scram on a first come first serve basis and never mind the old lady who needs to be helped up the steps.

I recall an interview on the radio not so long ago with Michael Gove the Education Secretary. He was being asked whether class sizes should be reduced. I was quite outraged that he took the view that this was not a problem providing school children had good teachers.

I knew and I strongly suspect so did the interviewer that his response was motivated by fiscal concerns alone and it made me angry.

I pulled back on my career to support my son through his schooling. That's us in the photo he's a big boy now! I know that if I hadn't he would not have achieved as much as he did. I know without a doubt that I was able to reinforce all that the teachers had tried to impart to him. That during our one-to-ones after his school day I was able to go slower and cover any difficulties that he had. Though I do not resent helping my son I am now trying to make up for my lost career time.

Other children are not so lucky. Their carers might not be able to give up the time to help reinforce the teaching and check out the homework. This is where the system starts to become unfair because some of these parents may have the financial means to pay for someone to do this on their behalf.

How ever this thorny problem is viewed, Michael Gove is plainly wrong. I have observed how difficult it is for one teacher no matter how good to spread themselves across 30 children. The added problem is that for the very young there is an inablilty to confidently pass classroom information on in support of one another, unlike older students who are are more able to work independently.

I believe that children between four to six years should be far fewer in the class. Fifteen would be much more manageable and individual children's needs could be specifically addressed. What is there for Michael Gove not to understand? Maybe he needs to go back to school himself and experience it from both view points: pupil and teacher or maybe he needs instructing on common sense. Perhaps this should be a training requirement for all Education Ministers.

Black Beauty

My husband has been having an affair with a real beauty these past few years; sleek, with a cute 'rear end', loud and racy. I try not to act too jealous but when I see the way he fondly strokes and rubs the bodywork I have to say that there are times when I find it all just a bit much.

She lives on her own, next door to us which is a little too close for comfort. When ever my husband is missing and not away from home, I know that this is where he will be. As a high maintenance type there is always something that she needs to have done.

Recently my husband bought her a new coat, high fashion and designer, of three hues that causes it to glow in the sunshine. The way a pint of Guinness is flecked with gold when held up to the light, as he described it to me.

She also causes a bit of a stir in our neighbourhood as she frequently attracts the attention of the other men that live close by. They will often openly admire her and in this respect she's been a bit of an ice breaker. I am of course referring to my husband's motor bike; a Yamaha TRX 850.

And there are concerns for her safety which are most touching, no really. The other night one of our neighbours took the trouble to wake us up to inform that the garage door had come open. Someone might steal her he said.

To my surprise she is also very appealing to most of the younger kids round our way, now that they have got used to her wake up call. One little boy told me that he doesn't have to set his alarm for school anymore as the roar gets him up every morning without fail.

And for me, there are still times when as my husband zooms off to work on his Yamaha, the first sip of tea that I am about to take jolts down my front instead. She is definitely not the type that likes to be taken for granted I think.