The worst economic crisis for 60 years? Labour’s chancellor as doomsayer

You’d expect a finance minister to exude calm not crisis. Yet Alistair Darling, Britain’s chancellor of the exchequer, has ominously told The Guardian that we face the worst economic conditions for sixty years.

Darling gave the paper a surprisingly candid interview, in which he came across as a decent man who wasn’t really cut out for the unattractive world of politics. It’s hard to see what possessed him to talk up the crisis facing Britain’s economy. While conditions are hardly rosy, few who lived through the late 1980s recession, let alone the 1970s, could accept the idea that we are yet in comparable straits. The 1989 crisis was a perfect storm: interest rates doubled in 18 months while unemployment soared. So far, we’ve experienced nothing like those grim events.

I had a ringside seat as the 1980s housing boom turned sour. I was press officer for Nationwide Building Society, and issued a series of news releases about the state of the housing market. At the end of 1988, I issued a story that claimed the peak of the market (absolutely right) and predicted a soft landing for house prices in 1989. The expected soft landing turned out to be the worst housing market crash since the second world war. Some 18 months later, I issued a release proclaiming that the first time buyer was back, and suggesting that the market would begin to recover. That recovery took over three years to materialise as thousands of borrowers had their homes repossessed. (In my defence, I should add that I was simply communicating the views of Nationwide’s housing economists. But few commentators were more prescient.)

The moral of the story? Take very little notice of anyone’s predictions about house prices or interest rates.

PS: The Guardian’s Decca Aitkenhead quotes a Treasury press officer advising the chancellor to "tell her [Aitkenhead] everything. Make sure you tell her everything." I suspect that Darling will be cursing that advice this weekend.

In praise of Great Britain

Team Great Britain’s triumph at the Beijing Olympics has cheered the country. For me, the fact that we’re competing as Great Britain is part of the pleasure. ‘Great Britain’ has a certain ring to it that warms the heart in the way that ‘United Kingdom’ never does. (It helps that even the abbreviated ‘GB’ sounds nicer than ‘Youkay’…) And, as a Welshman, I have to say that Beijing shows that we’re stronger united than alone.

Olympics: Beijing triumph must not mean open cheque for London 2012

The Beijing Olympics has been a triumph for Team GB. The whole country has felt good about day after day of sporting triumph. Our cyclists have been phenomenal, while swimmers like Rebecca Adlington have mixed athletic endeavour with personal modesty that grossly overpaid Premier League footballers could never match.

Yet Britain’s Beijing glory must not be used to justify giving London’s 2012 Olympic Games an open cheque. The budget for the event has already soared to grotesque levels. Failed politicians like Colin Moynihan, chairman of the British Olympic Association, have called on the Government to make up for any shortfall in funding for London 2012. Olympics minister (a bizarre concept in itself) Tessa Jowell and London mayor Boris Johnson have rightly rejected the idea. Beijing has put on a spectacular display. But unlike China, Britain has to listen to the people. Voters in Cardiff, Cumbernauld and Coventry would not thank a government that wasted even more money on a 16 day circus – no matter how many gold medals Team GB wins at its home games.

Up hill and down Rivendell

When Karen was pregnant, we started nightly walks. One of them took us past a house in Chalfont St Giles called Rivendell. I liked the sound of the name. It brought to mind the Yorkshire Dales, and we always smiled when we saw the house. The people who live there have no idea that it has acquired cult status with us.

Just after Owen was born, I found another house called Rivendell in the next village, and was intrigued. A friend told us that Rivendell was a place in Tolkein’s Middle Earth. So much for my Yorkshire theory!

Keep cars off the pavement: the view of a first time dad

I love driving. There, I’ve said it. But since becoming a father five weeks ago, I’ve been more aware than ever of how anti-social and thoughtless motorists can be.

Why the sudden realisation? The simple and joyful act of pushing a pram. You wouldn’t believe how many drivers think pavements are car parks. Just try getting a pram past a car that is totally blocking a pavement. Why should pram drivers have to veer into a busy road because car drivers are so brainless?

But we pram pushers are the lucky ones. I feel so sorry for anyone in a wheelchair whose progress is totally blocked by a mindlessly parked car.

Sadly, car drivers think they are the only people who matter. They regard themselves (wrongly) as the eternal victims, who should be forever above the law. For some reason, they consider that speed limits should be optional, and double yellow lines merely street art. I blame Jeremy Clarkson, that anti-social moron whose crass lifestyle is subsidised by the BBC licence fee payer.

Pavements are for pedestrians, not cars. Speed limits are for a reason. Why should criminal car drivers be treated differently from burglars?

End of the pier show: Weston-super-Mare memories

I was sad to see that Weston-super-Mare’s Grand Pier had been devastated by fire earlier this week.

I spent many happy hours at Weston when I was little. My first visit was forty years ago this summer, when I was almost five years old. We had a family outing by Campbell’s paddle steamer from Cardiff pier head across the Bristol Channel to Weston’s Grand Pier. (In the days before the steamers transferred from Cardiff to Penarth.) That first visit was dramatic – I cut my foot on a piece of glass on the beach within minutes of getting off the steamer, and was rushed to the first aid stand.

A few years later, I discovered Weston’s other pier, the Birnbeck Pier, which is the only one to connect the mainland to an island. This has far more character than the devastated Grand Pier, and is about to be restored.  The Birnbeck lies on the lovely walk from Weston to Kewstoke.

My parents live on the seafront at Penarth, on the Welsh side of the Bristol Channel opposite Weston. The garish lights of the Grand Pier shone brightly across the water before this week’s fire. I hope that one day we’ll see both Weston’s piers restored, although the lights won’t be missed.

PS: BBC news editor Simon Waldman writes on the BBC Editors’ blog about his discomfort at being scooped by Sky News for footage of the Weston inferno – and his relief when readers provided their own videos.

One comment on the blog takes Waldman to task for his glee at finally being able to show this user generated content. Another, amusingly, suggests that someone point a webcam at all Britain’s remaining piers, given their vulnerability to fire and storm damage. One might add that it’s worth keeping an eye on anything that is being restored – from Hampton Court to Windsor Castle to Weston’s pier, restoration seems almost to guarantee destruction.

Owen: an NHS birthday baby

Sorry for being so slow in following up on my post about Owen’s arrival. As you’d expect, we’ve had a hectic – but wonderful – time over the past 27 days!

By coincidence, Owen was born on the day Britain marked the 60th birthday of the National Health Service, in an NHS hospital. The NHS doesn’t always get the credit it deserves – the media and opportunist opposition politicians are all too quick to condemn. Yet our experience during Karen’s pregnancy and Owen’s birth made us very grateful for the service – and rather proud of it. I wrote in praise of our doctor’s surgery on this blog in January; our experience in Wexham Park hospital when Owen arrived was equally praiseworthy. (As the new dad, I was very grateful to the midwifes who brought us several helpings of tea and toast for free!)

What makes the NHS so admirable is that we’d have had the same marvellous care regardless of how much or how little we earned. True, there are still variations in the standard of NHS care across the UK, but the spirit of Aneurin Bevan’s creation lives on after 60 years.