Research shows...

I like research. I like getting information in a kind of rational way: not through wee stories but through asking questions to determine hard facts, producing data and publishing the results. But I'm annoyed at how the research into how we live is now being reported.

Last week, research in the UK was looking at men, in particular the suicide rate among men. The rate among men aged 30 and under is apparently very worrying. When I was working, I heard several times about people walking their dogs in leafy Kilmarnock parks of a morning finding the bodies of young men hanging from trees. The things I never knew were: is the suicide rate among young men worse than it was? And what causes it to be so high?

This week, it's the rate of depression and anxiety among young women that's causing concern. It seems 25% of young women in the UK (or was it England or England and Wales?) between 18 and 24 (or maybe 19 and 25?) suffer from anxiety and/or depression. That's quite a high proportion but is it more or less than in previous years? And, of course, what causes these conditions?

Research will tell us but only if we ask the right questions and can interpret the data correctly.

The only way you can find any reliable facts is by going back to the original research documents, assuming you know how to read the conclusions. Most of us don't have the time or the 'nous' to do that so we rely on press reports on research. According to these, young men commit suicide because men have lost their 'traditional role' in society. Young women suffer from anxiety and depression because they are sold the social media idea of perfection: if you don't look like a Kardashian, you're nothing.  

I don't know if any of these conclusions are valid. My family history tells me the role of working men in our society has been constantly changing for a long time: my relatives in Fife left the mines in the 1880s to go and work in the St Rollox railway works in Glasgow. (I used to get really pissed off with people like Norman Tebbit, with his 'get on your bike' philosophy - what the hell had my family been doing for 150 years, if not that?) The women in my family always worked, in 'service' or later in factories, care homes and offices. They adapted, just like the men.

To me, it all looks like a stitch-up: the message from capitalism is if the working people of this country can't find a job, give their lives some meaning, get themselves a place in society, it's because they are lacking something. In other words, it's their own fault. I'm not buying it. People's lives are worth more than this.

I'm still waiting for a political party - apart from the Greens - to reject this neo-liberal idea. But I'm not holding my breath.

What is disability?

A friend of mine told me she only realised her cousin had ADHD when she started working with young people with that now neatly-labelled learning disability in the 1990s. She and her cousin were children of the 1950s. She didn't recognise - and neither did anyone else in the family - the tantrums, the anxiety, the lack of concentration and the difficulties at school that all pointed towards a quite severe learning disability.

In my family, we had a cousin who was a bit odd. He was the late and only child of elderly parents: mother about 40, father nearer 60. He went to school, did okay, got a job with Scotrail and kind of vanished off the radar - or at least, our radar. We only found out that he was still around - and there was a problem - when we were contacted by the police who told us his mother (our mother's sister) was in hospital and asked us to go and visit. This was in the late 80s. My sister and brother went to the Southern General Hospital in Glasgow (I was away, as usual). They sat in a corridor waiting to be told what was going on. When our cousin appeared, my brother said: 'Clock the sannies.' Yes, the cousin was wearing a blazer, collar and tie, neatly pressed trousers - and school sandshoes. It was, frankly, the only indication of anything unusual. And it took my brother, not a teacher but used to working with many types of people, to spot what the problem was. 

Asperger's Syndrome. 

The cousin had difficulty in communicating. He didn't like it when strange situations arose (like finding yourself in a hospital because your mother is ill, talking to people you don't really know). He didn't make eye contact with my brother or sister. He was happy at home, where he had an amazing railway set-up with a room to itself. The rest of the house was taken up with black bags full of rubbish that hadn't been discarded. He couldn't really be trusted to look after his mother - or himself - so carers were organised. (His father had died a long time ago). Last we heard, he was living in the same house 20 years later. 

I suppose it's an example of how the traditional family has collapsed, although I see it differently: people are entitled to do their own thing and shouldn't have to resort to the 19th century family model in which we all - apparently - looked after each other. That never worked for my family anyway: we were industrial workers and went where the work was. My 4 times back great-grandmother died in the St Leonard's Workhouse in Leith in her 80s. She'd been married and widowed twice, had 9 children and not one of them was able to look after her in her old age. 

Isn't capitalism great?

A&B

I have Chronic Fatigue Syndrome, often referred to as ME or, more recently, by the US acronym SEID (Systemic Exertion Intolerance Disease). I've had it since New Year 2016 and have got used to the 'now I'm sleeping all the time - no, wait, now I'm not sleeping at all' syndrome that seems to be part of this disorder. I had a good day today, Sunday. Got up very late but did 2 washings, dried one and hung the other one up, recycled, went to Whole Foods for coffee and a croissant, watched a movie, folded the 2nd wash and put it away, had a ready meal (beef with black pepper sauce and rice) and sat down to relax, only to find myself wide awake at 3am.

So I went online, the way you do. Googled the schools I used to work with in Argyll and Bute, and discovered to my irritation that most of their websites don't work. And that's not all. I wanted to know if any of the staff I had known in the 1990s were still around. Only one website gave me the information on staffing that I wanted.

Is this policy in A&B? Tell the public nothing? Or is it, as I sadly suspect, a lack of staff to oversee the school websites and keep information flowing to parents and the wider community?

If you live and work in an area with pretty vast distances between schools - from Coll to Campbeltown to Helensburgh), it's really important to know what is going on in other schools in the area. If you're a teacher in the area, it's pretty well essential for staff to be in touch with each other. Maybe there's an intraweb for employees of A&B. I hope so.

Or can it be that A&B education has reverted to what it was when I first went to work there in 1977? The land the 21st century forgot, although mostly no more than 3 1/2 hours from Glasgow.

If it's not as bad as I see it, please correct me.

WTF?

I'm not a fan of the 'Royal' family. The first time I saw a Cambridge wean, I thought: Oh look, another generation for us to pay for! Then I thought: You're a nasty wumman - but it immediately occurred to me: Why is that wee boy dressed up to look like Prince Charles, who is my age (65+)? Now I'm wondering why both of these children are dressed up in 1950s clothes.

Small children don't look like this these days. They wear trendy clothes, in vivid colours and modern fabrics that wash well and are, frankly, pretty cheap so they can be thrown away when they're past their best. I know this because I'm often with my sister when she's buying clothes for her grandchildren in M&S, Asda and Debenhams. On occasion, I join her, although I prefer to get them books and toys. But I do know the in thing for wee boys right now is the stripy rugby shirt teamed with denims or cargo pants.

Looking at Kate Middleton, I can only guess she's taken her weans all the way to Canada in the easy-wear clothes I've described and changed them (or the nanny has changed them) into the 1950s gear just before they got off the plane, you know, while she herself was changing into her ridiculous 1950s outfit. I mean, that hat - what is that about?

Let's fast forward 25 years in any normal family: the embarrassing photos are produced - we have quite a collection in our family - and the kids ask: What were you thinking, dressing us up like that? I suspect the baldy guy on the left isn't thinking at all. He's being directed by his wife and the PR team. But he needs to get a grip. There's a limit to how long kids will put up with this kind of thing. I reckon by the time girls are 6 and boys are 8, they have their own ideas on what to wear - and it isn't shorts, long socks and smock-stitched dresses.

What if...

There was a journalist on TV tonight alarmed that people who paid the price of a cup of coffee to join were deciding the fate of the Labour Party in the UK. She missed the point, of course. Three quid is not what people thought Labour Party membership was worth. It's what they were asked to pay and a lot of people paid it. Labour is now the largest political party in Europe. The members' reasons for joining are their own business, but it's pretty clear that a lot voted - again - for Jeremy Corbyn (in an election caused by his opponents) and his left of centre agenda; hardly any of them are 'Trots'; and the party is left in the position of still looking for a way out of the mess it's in, thanks to a huge rift between the Westminster party and the party membership - and I suspect the voters. Meanwhile, a small number of Labour members have apparently decided to join UKIP, which makes me think maybe they didn't have a clear idea of what the Labour Party stood for in the first place. Mind you, I sometimes wonder if Tony Blair understood that.

And here's a wee thought I'd like to share with you:

What if Jeremy Corbyn is right?

What if the great political right turn that started in the UK with Thatcher and Co in the 80s doesn't appeal to a lot of people?

What if people don't want the UK to be privatised? What if we want to take the railways back into public ownership, as is the case in most European countries? Keep the NHS a publicly-funded body rather than hiving off bits of it to private companies? Decide our energy future lies with wave and wind power and not with nuclear power stations built and run for mega profits by China and France, which we the consumers will have to pay for? What if we want a good education for everybody in comprehensive schools (which are doing pretty well, thank you), rather than dangling elitist grammar schools in front of the middle classes as a way to buy their votes and divide them off from the rest of us? What if we want to take care of the the elderly and the disabled in a way that treats them with humanity, rather than as a problem to be sanctioned? What if we see taking in immigrants from Syria as our duty, rather than as the road to hell the Tory press describes.

What if people want a political party that makes these points? In Scotland, we have one: it's called the Scottish Greens. That's why I joined. It's all about equality and social justice. I joined the Greens initially because I could no longer support 'Scottish' Labour but I firmly believe there is a place for Labour in UK politics. To claim its place, the party is going to have to rebuild itself from the ground up, persuade the parliamentary party it's got the wrong idea, that Blairism is dead and they need a new philosophy that is inclusive, fair, based on sound financial principles (principles - now there's a word rarely heard from Tories) and get ready for a long campaign of information and persuasion in the face of almost total opposition from the media.

Is Corbyn the man to do it? I don't know. I honestly thought by now he'd have disappeared to the back benches. But no, he's still there. He has had a successful go at the new PM a couple of times. He has also had a go at some of the party's MPs. Will he be able to put his project into words - or at least hire some PR people who can? Is he a man on a mission? I hope so.

Things I haven't done

I was looking at the list of former Booker prize winning books and realised I hadn't read any of them. 

Here are some more things I have never done:

- eaten a McDonald's

- drunk Buckie

- watched Big Brother

- visited Portugal

- been arrested

- gone ice skating

- walked out of a movie (though I should have done - a few times)

- learned to make bread

- gutted a fish

- followed a football team

- found out what Instagram is

- read Proust

...and hundreds more. 

I don't plan to do any of these things. But it's fun wondering if life would be different if I had.

Sorry is the hardest word...

I listen to BBC radio 4 when I'm cooking. All I can say is the radio is tuned to that station and by the time I think to change it my hands are wet. Sorry if that - Radio 4, I mean - offends people. Radio 4 sometimes offends me. Tonight I was making spag bol while there was a programme about listeners' complaints going on in the background. 

I started to listen in when I heard the words 'We could have tried harder to find an MP who supported Jeremy Corbyn.' 

Wait. 

Here's the thing: I'm not Labour and not SNP, I'm a Green. Us Greens get a lot of criticism. Yes, we're flaky and disorganised, but we're full of ideas and we do like fair dos.

I listened harder: the person speaking admitted she had arranged for two Labour MPs to comment on something or other that had happened in the Labour Party in the past couple of weeks. Both of those MPs, Caroline Flint and somebody else, were critical of Corbyn. I waited for the next step: did she try to contact an MP who supported Corbyn so there would be some sort of balance? If not, why not? But the interviewer didn't ask these questions. There was a bit of chat - between two BBC employees, remember, with no outside mediation - about lack of balance but it wasn't a heavy discussion, not like the full blown attack you would get if Corbyn's lot (or the SNP, for example) had been guilty of such blatant bias. 

When I put the spag bol in the oven, I went back to catching up with last week's papers. I searched for items which explained how Ruth Davidson had attacked the Scottish Government for poor performance by the NHS, apparently not realising that the document she was quoting from applied to England. Not a word. No mention of the trolls who commented disgracefully on Nicola Sturgeon's miscarriage but plenty of comments about Wings Over Scotland (not my favourite blog - the man is a boor) being suspended from twitter. 

Yesterday I read on the BBC website that some UK government minister or other says the issue of the Scottish 6 is a decision for the BBC to take. But I, like you, pay for the BBC, so isn't the matter of a full-blown Scotland-focused news programme for us to decide here in Scotland? Viewers as well as BBC employees. Then I remembered the comment of the Newsnight editor when asked a few years ago about a Scottish 6: 'That will only happen over my dead body,' he said. 

And then I noticed that some BBC broadcaster I've never heard of earns half a million quid for presenting Antiques Roadshow. 

Can we talk...corruption?

Meet Justin Tomlinson, a former Tory junior minister who has been suspended from the House of Commons for releasing the report on an enquiry called Regulating Consumer Credit to a Wonga employee in 2013. The Wonga employee wrote back to him commenting on the findings and suggesting changes to the report. This is referred to as 'holding the house in contempt' and according to the house 'constituted substantial interference' in the work of parliament. 

Like me, you're probably shocked and for a few reasons:

Firstly, this incident has never been mentioned in any news bulletin between 2013 and now. 

Secondly, no explanation has been forthcoming of the relationship between Mr Tomlinson and Wonga. Why would an MP consult an employee of Wonga (consultation is what it looks like to me) about a sensitive issue like the regulation of consumer credit? 

Thirdly, this MP has been suspended from the commons for two days. Yep, two days. I don't know if his suspension involves a loss of wages or even a loss of privileges, such as access to the commons bars and restaurants. What do you think?

It seems it all started way back in the 70s with John Profumo (Tory secretary of state for war) who got in tow with a prostitute who was already sharing a bed with the Soviet military attache in London. Later, Tory MPs were accused of asking questions in parliament in return for money from private companies. And there was a Labour MP who got into financial difficulties and faked his death. And later Labour MPs lowered themselves so far as to fiddle their expenses. 

It seems the Tories tend to get caught over sex, while with Labour it's more likely to be money. 

I  prefer to call it all corruption. 

There was a time when corruption was the domaine of foreigners. So we had Giscard d'Estaing and the African dictator Bokassa who bribed him with diamonds in the 70s. Two diamonds to be exact. And there's Mugabe. We'll believe almost anything of Mugabe, it seems. And what about those people in FIFA who took money in exchange for sending the World Cup to Qatar? Not to mention the very shady goings on over the Olympics in Brazil. All backed up by politicians. 

I was brought up to believe that politicians were honourable people who acted in the public interest.

I accept that there is bound to be the odd rotten egg among them. What I can't accept is the casual approach politicians take to policing what some of their number get up to.  

Pauline Cafferkey

I'm pretty sure you - like  me - can remember when you first heard of Pauline Cafferkey. 

She gave up a safe job in Scotland to go and work as a nurse in a hospital in Sierra Leone, in a community ravaged by ebola. She got sick and nearly died of this terrible disease. It seems ebola is now embedded deep in her system (she's now been ill a second time) and may keep coming back to haunt her. After all her efforts to help other people, this is her reward. 

When she volunteered, I imagine she knew the risks of contracting ebola but I doubt if she ever reckoned she'd have to face a hearing conducted by who knows what professional body, which is accusing her of lying about her health when she was on her way back from Sierra Leone. 

I have a few questions to ask: 

- Why would Pauline Cafferkey lie about the state of her health on her return to the UK? Is she some sort of sociopath, determined to spread ebola across Europe? Or is she someone in the middle of a 23 hour journey from Sierra Leone to Glasgow who walked into a shambles at Heathrow and is now being punished for wanting to go home?  

- Why weren't the health checks at Heathrow rigorous enough to pick up ebola? It's hard to believe that a couple of paracetamol stood between Pauline Cafferkey and a correct diagnosis. If her condition had been picked up at Heathrow, maybe she wouldn't have had to go through two attacks of ebola.  

- What is the point of the hearing Pauline Cafferkey is now going through? We're dealing here with a well-qualified, well-motivated professional who went to west Africa in order to help the sick. Does anyone question her motives for going there? I doubt it. 

- What will be the outcome of the hearing she's going through? Will she be barred from practising as a nurse? That would be ridiculous, since she has already proved many times over that she's a valuable member of society. What if a 'verdict' of guilty means that other members of the nursing profession are deterred from going around the world helping in terrible situations? 

Can anyone bring some sense to this situation? 

Let's get this party started

I read about David Cameron's resignation as an MP with a certain amount of amazement. In a matter of a few weeks, it seemed to me, the whole Tory party had fallen apart, with hardly anyone from the old Bullingdon boys' club still standing. I tried to work out what exactly this reminded me of. The closest I can get is this:

I  was once part of a group of people who worked and socialised together. Two of the group hooked up. Both had come out of disastrous marriages. In both cases the other partners had called time on the relationship and there was a certain amount of let's say resentment. Their new relationship rattled along for years and years. The subject of marriage came up once in a while but both partners said they were happy to stay as they were. The rest of us were quite relieved about that, since it seemed to us that both of them were still too aware of (if not attached to) their former spouses.

However, the day came when marriage was suddenly on the cards. It was a very special event. They flew off the the Seychelles and got married on the beach, with their feet in the Indian Ocean. When they came back, they announced they were having, not a reception, but a party at their house. So we all fetched up at their door one Saturday night, arms full of drink and flowers and gifts for the newly-married couple. I remember I was holding a palm tree. We rang the bell. There was a slight pause and then one of the other guests opened the door to us.

- Come on in! he said loudly, in a tone of forced cheeriness.

As we crossed the threshold, we heard voices raised at the back of the house. Then a  door slammed, footsteps sounded on the gravel down the side of the house, a car door slammed and a car zoomed to the bottom of the drive and took off on the main road. We stood transfixed in the doorway to the livingroom (rather posh - grand piano decorated with a vase of lilies, music stand beside it, a flute resting on the stand). We went in. Suddenly, someone dashed down the hall to the front door and disappeared outside. That door slammed dramatically too.

In the livingroom, us guests looked at each other.

- Em... said one of the newly-arrived guests.

The people who had been here before us shrugged.

- I suppose, said someone, we should just go.

- Bugger that, said someone else. We've come from Perth. Where's the drink? And are there any nibbles?

We raided the fridge in the kitchen and found gin, tonic, ice and lemon, a bottle of malt and a decent supply of wine. There was some champagne on ice in a bucket but it didn't seem appropriate to open it in the circumstances. A further attack on the wall units revealed glasses, not to mention nibbles. We chucked nuts and crisps into bowls left on the kitchen table and took them back to the livingroom.

A couple of hours later, our host and hostess still hadn't reappeared but we'd done justice to the drinks and the nibbles and were just talking about sending out for a curry. Then the front door opened. Aha, we thought, the happy couple.

But no, it was his sister and her auntie. They came into the livingroom - now a scene that my mother always called 'one of eastern decadence, with bottles, glasses, crisp packets and Pringles cans all over the place - and said sheepishly:

- Everybody okay?

We solemnly raised our glasses.

- Where the hell are they? asked one our number.

It was fine. They'd made up their  'tiff' and had now gone to a hotel, unable to face us after their dramatic exit. That seemed a bit daft since they'd be seeing us at work on Monday. The sister and the auntie had by now accepted drinks and a seat on the settee. There was no rush to leave, they said. If we were peckish, there were canapés in the pantry (yes, they had a pantry). We pretty well ate the lot. Anything left over we took home for assorted weans and dogs.

Why does the Tory situation remind me of this? To this day, I've no idea what this couple were arguing about. The dispute had nothing at all to do with the rest of us. But like everyone else in that house we made the best of it. The only people I felt sorry for were the sister and the auntie, left to deal with the fallout from a fight between two pretty self-absorbed human beings.

The difference between them and the Tories was that we never let our friends off the hook. From that moment on, at the slightest sign of a disagreement between them, one of us would shout:

- Domestic! Take cover!

This all happened about 20 years ago. As far as I'm aware, they're still married. I can't see the same thing happening with the Tories. Brexit may be their Waterloo.

Here's hoping...

A letter

I just sent this to a local headteacher. I hope it needs no explanation:

Dear Headteacher,

I was having lunch at the café in Fenwick Place today, Thursday 8 September, when I noticed a very elderly man park his car and make his way unsteadily across the road to the newsagent’s. There were quite a few students from St Ninian’s picking up their lunch at the café next door. 

When the elderly man came out of the newsagent’s, he took the arm of a St Ninian’s student and spoke to him. They then set off across the road back to the man’s car. The man held on tight to the student’s arm until they reached the car.

I dare say it would have been easy for the student to refuse to help or even to shake the man off. It is to his credit that he didn’t, even though the other students were having a quiet laugh at the sight.

Obviously, I don’t know who the student was but I want to thank him for his kindness.

Young people are often criticized, so it’s good to be able to give some praise where it’s due.

Yours sincerely,

Jean Nisbet

Treeza

The first secondary school I taught in was a non-denominational school (otherwise known as a Proddie school). It was about 200 yards from the nearest Cafflick school. A few families enrolled their weans in one or the other, apparently on a whim. It wasn't our business to ask why. I quickly learned the meaning of the phrase: No big deal. You just taught whoever walked in the door. But I remember overhearing a conversation between a pupil and the depute head:

DH -    Whit's your name?

Pupil -  Treeza.

DH -     Treeza whit?

Pupil -  Treeza O'Reilly.

DH -     Treeza O'Reilly? And whit are you daein in this school, eh?

The Depute Head did not get it. Theresa was one of 7 or 8 children. Probably from a 'mixed' marriage. Some of her siblings went to the Cafflick school and others to the Proddie school. It was, as I say, no big deal. It was just that he was an idiot. 

Today I was looking at photos of the recently-appointed Prime Minister of the UK. 

I have no difficulty with Treeza May. I don't care if she's a Proddie or a Cafflick. I hear she went to a grammar school. I don't care. She is married to a man with a foot in some pretty murky NHS business in England. Nothing to do with me, since I live in Scotland where the NHS is a devolved matter. 

The divide between Treeza and me is much worse than religious. 

She's a Tory. 

She managed to keep quiet during the last general election and emerged with a job (the one she'd had before - for years). Then she kept quiet during the EU referendum and again came out with the same job, which rapidly turned into an even better job once David Cameron had been ditched. She handled all that well. I knew she would. I'm old and I'm used to politics now. And, as I expected, she has kept pretty quiet since being elevated to the role of prime minister.

But I have just realised something quite alarming: Treeza has not got a frickin clue what's going on with Brexit and has no ideas at all about what should happen next. She has tried to pass the buck to the three caballeros:

You know the type: under-blessed with brains and imagination, but over-endowed with self-confidence. Are we any the wiser about the future that we are - unwillingly in my case - tied to? And please don't tell me it's only been 11 weeks since the vote and things can only get better.  

I live in hope that this will be Treeza's undoing. These three jokers were appointed by her. Davis has already shown Westminster he has no idea what's going on. Johnston looks permanently terrified. And I can't even remember the other one's name, although something at the back of my mind makes me think he's Scottish. Quelle horreur. 

These people are, it seems, the best we have. So here's my question: If Treeza and the boys have nae idea what to do about Brexit and allow themselves to be goaded into daft decisions by the media, what is the future for the UK? 

 Myself, I'm not leaving Scotland. I'm too old. This is where I live. And I would like my family to stay here too. But it would be good if someone could tell me what the hell is going on.

Black hearted

I had to phone an airline this weekend.

I hate phoning these people. I've had terrible experiences in the past: like arguing with BA that leaving an elderly woman with no English sitting in a wheelchair for hours in Heathrow, so that she would have missed her flight if she hadn't come across a young Chilean guy who was alarmed that she'd been abandoned, was maybe not a fair reflection of what she'd paid for her flight (a breach of contract, in other words).

I didn't win the argument then and I don't expect I ever will win with these people, and certainly not now that the UK looks to be leaving the EU, because whatever else the EU does it offers some protection from airline companies that just want to make money and b$gger the service.

TodayI wanted to do 2 things: firstly, make sure the airline would accept me as a passenger, given that I am a bit poorly and may need a wheelchair to get me from check-in at 'Glw Int' to the 'bottom of the passenger ramp' (that's what it says on the form they sent me). I was worried that my needs as a (slightly) disabled passenger might be overlooked online. I was assured that would not happen but it was up to me to make sure they knew I coming. I promise you I will kick up several kinds of hell if I get to the flybe check in and discover they're not expecting me.

Secondly, what would the flight cost? Now that's complicated: the airline told me it was best to book online rather than through the call centre because it was cheaper. So what the hell is the point of having a call centre, widely advertised on their website, if the purpose of the call centre is to refer possible passengers back to the website? The woman at the end of the phone didn't answer that but gave me 2 prices: one for booking with the call centre (in other words, paying to speak to a human being) and the other for booking on the website. The difference in prices was about 40 quid. I said I thought this was a pretty poor way to do business. She said little, just that the booking fee if I booked through the call centre was an extr tenner. I gave in and went online. And I will still have to phone to register as a passenger who needs support.

It's pretty horrible, all this. How do hospital patients manage when they are travelling back and forth for treatment from the Hebrides? Twenty years ago, I was the person designated - purely by chance in that I was travelling that day - 'the accompanying adult' for a few (mainly very young) passengers going to Glasgow hospitals for treatment. I was the person who sat beside them on the flight and waited with them till I could see the ambulance people coming to pick them up. Has all that gone? Replaced by the cash culture?

I can only call this what it is. Nasty.

Religion

I live in a retirement complex that used to be called the 'Jewish Care Home.' Some bit of legislation - EU or UK, I don't know - stopped that exclusiveness a while back. I don't know how many residents are Jewish these days. It's not my business and besides I don't care. All I ask is a peaceful life with good neighbours - and they are. On a Monday evening, I hear a bit of chanting because that's when some of the Jewish men meet for prayers in the lounge. I feel quite at home here. I know the traditions because my uncle Max was Jewish, even if he said on his deathbed: Don't let the Jews get my body. (We cremated him).

A few of my elderly Jewish neighbours (who by the way have lived in Scotland all their lives, and in many cases their parents before them) tell me they are quite freaked out by the Brexit vote and subsequent racist attacks on other Europeans. They say they don't feel safe. I try to reassure them, but they remind me the synagogue next door has had to employ security staff for quite a few years now. They hear Farage, Boris Johnson and now Trump all spouting an outright racist point of view - and making it acceptable - and, given their history, they fear for the future.

I think I was 13 when I rejected religion. Ever since, I've listened to people of many faiths telling me how important religious belief is. Oddly enough, the one group that have never tried to indoctrinate me are the atheists.

I don't go for religion. That's my right in a civilised democratic society. I've seen nothing in life to change my mind.

This week I've been reading about how anti-Christian UK 'society' is. It seems Christians feel under attack. One letter in the newspaper I take even described anti-Christian feeling in Scotland - Scotland - as 'violent.' All I can say is: show me where this is happening. Give me proof.

If Christians mean that in UK society they are not entitled to be heard before anyone else, then yes, they are being challenged and I can only ask: why shouldn't your beliefs be challenged? They are not truths but just your beliefs. You are not more important than anyone else in our society. And why can't you accept that people of other faiths - and people of no faith - live in Scotland? I reject the attitude that this is a Christian country. This is a country where many religions have taken root over many years. No one should have that sense of entitlement that lets them think the country is the unique property of one religious sect or another.

As a woman, I have faced the same kind of idiotic problem with some men: they used to have it so easy: plenty of jobs (and their pay was way above what women got - and that's not changed), an entitlement to respect just because of who they were, top dogs in politics, etc. And boy, have we been hearing about it ever since, because things changed: round about 1980, the backside fell out of the employment market, skills got downgraded, unskilled work just vanished. Meanwhile, women got out of the house into the factory, the office, the hospital. No choice there, because, since the 1980s, families can only survive if they have two incomes.

The big problem that I see is that society is adapting faster than religion. Communities have accepted same-sex marriage without a qualm and the same thing seems to be happening about transgender people, abortion and all the other so-called moral dilemmas that bother religious groups but don't trouble most of the rest of us at all.

Given that only 48% of people in Scotland now say they have any religious belief, isn't it time for all religions to adapt to a new world?

Then maybe poor Asad Shah won't have died in vain.