How about sending them overseas for a year to help out with aid in countries that really don't have the opportunities they claim not to have? This would be after tallying up the cost of the damage done along with extra policing costs and giving them a bill for their share. Maybe then they just might learn the value of a pound.
That's a really REALLY good point. I grew up a pharmacist's and draughtman engineer's daughter in a safe village where basically I thought water, hot or cold just somehow came out the tap, totally took things for granted. My parents' moaning about some bills didn't make much sense to me as I then saw them spend money on what I considered really silly, like a 'quiet' toilet, or yet another new rug, I just didn't get all that grown up money malarkey, was just always told that only poor people get into debt and agree to daft things like HP. Like a lot of middle class families there was a lot of snobbery I didn't like, but wasn't in the position to say anything about, as I really didn't understand, I hadn't gone through any kind of shortage, through any war, any material hardship, had a warm bed in a semidetached house in a quiet street.
Then, at 17, I decided to go interrailing with one of my best friends, we packed a 40lb (!!!) backback we could hardly lift, off through, France, Spain and eventually Morocco where my whole world changed. Met some student boys who went volunteering in some slum outside Rabat, we went with them and spent a few weeks in this slum, got covered if flees and flies, didn't have a clue where to get clean water from, we drank from pots in the road evrybody drank from, including dogs, and didn't think of getting out of there either, when you are young it's all just one big adventure, still cushioned by this history of comfort. Seemed a bit like a game at first. The people were lovely, no suspicion, just curiousity, warmth and wanting handfulls of my then sunbleached hair and the children took it in turns sitting on my lap poking my face and giggling. One evening we got invited in one of the bigger corrugated iron huts, it had electricity and TV and guess what, Dallas was on. I just couldn't believe what I was seeing. There were these 20 or so absolutely stone poor people huddled around one TV watching Dallas with big eyes, the comparison between the two worlds was just staggering and it hurt like an arrow in the heart and suddenly this whole water thing, that it doesn't just come out of the tap for some bur for some it comes out of gold tabs really hit home. I felt no bitterness or resentment about it coming from the families watching, just thought of wonder, and the whole time I felt absolutely safe. What made me personally feel really sick inside was the fact that there was an American owned tyre company some of these children as young as 6 worked in, with absolutely now safety precautions, for half a drham per day which was just enough to buy themselves one breakfast per week, not a full English, just some bread and honey and tea. While we were there one of the little boys, ages I would guess between 6 and 8 lost his lower arm in a cutting machine, and there was nothing but for the family to do but feel sorry for him, and look after the bandages as best as possible.
When it was already way past our interrail ticket return dates and we had to get back, my friend and I got changed in the Rabat trainstation toilet, and washed, it was pretty clean there, first running water we had had for ages, I just kept staring at it as if it was a miracle. We were just repacking out backpacks and this tourist woman and her little daughter came in the ladies, and the little girl wanted to wash her hands, and we heard the mother say "don't touch that tap and the water, it's dirty" My friend and I just looked at each other, we were so stunned as suddenly the two worlds collided in our heads, and it was tough, we were kind of close to tears and laughing at the same time. With all the TV showing of poverty and hunger in the world, nothing compares to direct experience, and Sandy is dead right, anyone experiencing it does learn the value of the pound, of food, of water, of medicine, of a dentist who can give you a clean anaesthetic with a needle that doesn't have Hepatitis B written all over it. And really living with Saad's family in Giza wasn't that different.
Yes, anyone, however old they are, should really go to parts in the world where survival really means survival, not getting the latest android phone, and feel the joy and dignity nevertheless present in the people there for absolutely anything they can make happen. Needless to say I was never the same since. Thank God.
got herself off her own back a decent job,also works in a bar at weekend. i truly believe most of these kids need a good slap,a bit of discipline:smilewinkgrin:
