In-Car Entertainment

I used to walk to school.

I used to walk to school at a time when many children walked to school; I lived in a rural region where everything was close by except civilisation.

But I have learnt something new this week. Something which I already knew but which I have now recognised as being the case. I have learnt that the school run is potentially the most important forum for discussion between parent and offspring.

So I'm wondering whether my solitary walks - never a 'run' more a determined stepping out - have resulted in an emotional shortfall, an inability to share my feelings in this over-sharing world.

It seems that psychology experts now agree that the average male does not reach emotional maturity until age 26, the average female age 22. So it would appear that the period during which teenagers require particular mental massaging and understanding has lengthened compared with previous generations and, moreover, that this therapy is best carried out in the car on the school run.

To say that I am cock-a-hoop at this revelation would be to understate my delight. Ever one to champion the underdog, I am ecstatic that the convoys of parents shipping their babes to school and back daily should no longer be vilified for increasing traffic volume, blocking roads, and single-handedly burning the world's precious resources via that invention of the devil, the internal combustion engine. All these drivers now represent the contemporary face of parental care and attention by dint of the fact that they are listening to their children who, apparently, infinitely prefer to reveal all their innermost secrets and worries when not making eye contact; this, of course, renders people carriers with sideways seating useless, but I could never think of a good excuse for those anyway.

I understand the same effect can be gained when the ironing is being done - presumably the activity being carried out by the parent, not the child; the latter could in no way have something so important to say that it would be necessary as to reach for the ironing board, save for complete life meltdown perhaps. Although, on second thoughts, my teenage daughter has had several complete life meltdowns but never once has the ironing been the backdrop.

I also understand that eye contact is difficult when you're at the stage where you cannot hold your head up due to weakness of the neck, a developmental period suffered by teenagers, predominantly male; perhaps the ubiquitous headrests found in even the average modern family vehicle goes some way to solving this physical disability.

There is, of course, another reason for celebration; we, as parents, could now set the costs of ferrying our children around - so often deemed 'part of the service' - quite simply as part of our service to society. There must be tax breaks for this.

And just think of the dosh we'll save on shrinks - for both them and us. No longer will it be necessary to prop their boneless bodies in front of an exorbitantly expensive head reader. We merely nod sagely whilst negotiating the latest intersection, mention how interesting is their point of view, intersperse their diatribes with the occasional 'OMG' - which might also 'double-up' as an observation on fellow drivers - and they'll be as right as rain. So will we, because we'll be enlightened; problems which we held to be so important and which might scar them for life and which are all our fault, we can appreciate as being absolutely unintelligible or irrelevant.

We'll be able to sack the shrink we've been seeing to try to come to terms with parental failure.

It's so simple and should have been made much of before; let's face it, London cabbies have been offering this mobile shrink service for decades - all your worries either completely confirmed, with suicide the only option, or 'load-a-ole-rubbish', at which you descend from the cab able to take on the world. And all for the fare from Putney to Fulham. At least they offer a solution - you feel you've had your money's worth - unlike visiting the average shrink who perversely, by default (aka silence), allows you to blame your parents if you are a parent, or your parents if you're a child.

I feel robbed of this eye to eye contact stuff, having been a child before its time; when cars were an aspiration not a footprint and legs were as indispensable as shrinks are now.

Freedom

So, we escaped the hazy streets of Dubai one week before Ramadan was called.

This is the first year since our arrival that we have been away for the whole of this religious festival.

Because of the timing this is the first year when Daughter will return to school after Ramadan - no shortened school days or road chaos for me. Ha!

As we left at the beginning of August - so early it messed with our heads - it was 42 degrees C with 90% humidity; a continuation of one of the hottest Summers on record.

So we're in Cyprus; a mere three hour (-ish) hop from The Gulf but a world away in so many ways.

Daughter has, until recently, embraced every aspect of life in Dubai positively; a staunch advocate of the benefits whilst living with the downsides. But developing maturity and an expensive education has encouraged her to question some aspects and she is not buying into many of the answers. I'm interested to watch her develop if only because I see some return on investment...

Top of the list of things she was looking forward to prior to our departure was being able to wear without restriction the teenage clothes of the western world which are freely available in all the malls. The old adage 'You're not going out dressed like that' takes on a whole new meaning when we're at home.

However - pause for sharp intake of breath and an OMG - Daughter has been horrified at the sartorial mistakes which freedom of dress encourages. Acres of exposed flesh oozing out of lycra - and that's the more conservative approach - is unappealing in any culture, and that's just the men! Individual dignity and personal respect appear to have been thrown to the four winds in the stampede to discard clothing the more to reveal body art and piercings and third degree sunburn.

So we've had this discussion about freedom, both personal and societal; about responsibilities; about manners and mores.

The contrast between the culture we have come from and the one we have come to could not be more stark. The fight for women's rights in the western world should be remembered, applauded, admired and enjoyed. But the fight is not over and if we take it for granted as complete will not progress.

Meanwhile the fight for women's rights in the undeveloped world has hardly begun in terms of achievement. The raison d'etre for the majority of women is merely to produce male offspring. The men are encouraged to enjoy all western 'freedoms' both at home and abroad whilst prohibiting similar behaviour in their wives, sisters and cousins.

Whilst being able to dress as you want is a consequence of a freer society rather than freedom itself perhaps the careless way the west exhibits its freedom illustrates how little freedom is valued and the price paid to get it has been long forgotten.