SCOTLAND THE BRAVE

The al-Megrahi affair has shown up a number of individuals and institutions in characteristic attitudes.

The release of al-Magrahi on compassionate grounds presents a picture of a Scottish government acting boldly on its own convictions. (It is only a pity that some Scots political parties have seen fit to muddy the waters for what they see as political advantage.)

The attempted bullying by the FBI is a gross interference in another nation's affairs - a not uncommon attitude in that quarter. Are American neo-cons really so naive that they think that terrorists around the world are thinking, 'I'll get involved in a terrorist act; then if I can contract a terminal disease I shall have got away with it'?

The anguish felt by American parents who lost their children at Lockerbie is totally understandable. One is saddened, however, that it should so often take the form of the kind of rant extruded by the gun lobby: they seemed disappointed that they had been denied the pleasure of watching the accused dying behind bars.

The contrast with our own Dr. Jim Swire is marked. He too has suffered the death of a dearly loved child, yet he continues to maintain that the original conviction of al-Magrahi was unsound, and to campaign on his behalf.

Nothing can condone random acts of terrorism. Yet one can only notice a kind of horrible distorted justice in the arguments of Islamics who point to the shooting down of the Iran Airbus flight 655 in July 1998. The USS Vincennes was in breach of Iranian territorial waters, and failed to recognise a civilian aircraft on a scheduled flight. 290 pilgrims were killed. After attempts to deny the incident had been shown for the lies they were, the captain who gave the order to fire was awarded the Legion of Merit. The comment by Old Bush sums it up - 'I shan't apologise. I don't care what the facts are.' Fundamentalist religious beliefs are no excuse for wanton violence, on either side.

The stage-managed reception of al-Megrahi on his return to Libya was, to say the least, very unfortunate and ill-timed. But then Gadaffi has no taste.

An American actor, recently asked for his opinion on the al-Megrahi case, on a BBC chat show, replied, 'I sure want to see that guy dead!' The anchor-man, John Sargent, was visibly taken aback, as well he might have been. (Any intelligence that the interviewee might have possessed was easily masked by the fact that he was wearing the loon's head-dress - a baseball cap indoors.)

The American right presumably wastes little time watching performances of plays by a back-number Brit such as Shakespeare. Otherwise they might have pondered the fact that earthly power doth then show likest God's when mercy seasons justice.

COMPLIMENT / COMPLEMENT

The latest glossy illiteracy to drop through the letter-box -

'NEW! Now you can have a beautiful dinner-table, with napkins specially colour-coded to compliment your table-ware!'

One imagines the delightful conversation:

'May I compliment you on your latest colour scheme, Lady Denby-Ware?'

'Certainly not, Mr. Napkin. Get back under the table where you belong!'

GRUMPY OLD MEN

Why are you such a grumpy old man - always complaining about something?

I'm not grumpy by nature - in fact I am generally thought to be a rather jolly old codger, as you can see. And as I approach the end of things, for 'death, a necessary end, comes when it will come', I should like to think that my generation were leaving something worth while to the next.

But circumstances make it increasingly difficult. There can be no doubt that, looking back to my youth, I see a great many things that have deteriorated. Life in the streets is more violent - we only go out at night for a visit to the theatre, or a restaurant. Apart from that we are more than content to stay at home. There are compensations, of course. We have at our finger-tips a whole range of DVDs of great films and television. Music pours into the room with a startling clarity unknown a few years ago. But the world of strolling and chatting has faded.

In those days I was able to tour the country by cycle, on roads that were fairly quiet at the worst, and frequently, with a little map-reading, deserted. Cotton shirt and shorts, and panniers to carry a little kit; 3-speed Sturmey-Archer gears if one was lucky; and one was away. Nowadays they all seem to think that they are competing in the Olympics - hard hats with streamlining of no value whatever, tight lycra, t-shirts of distressingly discordant patterns, and above all, expressions of grim determination. When was the last time you saw a happy cyclist?

I won't multiply examples, but you will know what they are.

And taking a wider view doesn't help at all. There is no doubt at all now that we have ill-used the planet,and that it is in a shabby and run-down state. Those who come after us may be able to patch it up a bit, but most of what has gone is gone for good. Tribe quarrels with tribe, and generally seems to have no answer but blind rage and killing - especially when fuelled by the myths of the religions. The greatest power in the world seems to have no concept of constructive action, but launches its young men into campaign after campaign which in the nature of things it cannot hope to bring to any valid conclusion. Harry Patch said, 'In the end it comes down to talking, so why can't they do the talking first?' But nobody listens to us old fogeys.

Yes, I'm glad that I can make an appointment to see my GP whenever I want, instead of queuing up in a bleak waiting-room for the next turn. Yes, I am glad that the various conditions that are attendant on old age are comfortably controlled by better and better medication. Yes, I am reassured by the fact that when the weather turns bleak I can order our groceries on-line, and they will be delivered to our door - and in a great profusion unimaginable to me as a boy. And so on and so on.

But always there is this nagging sense that one world at least is coming to an end - youngsters kill each other on the streets for no reason, public facilities are mindlessly vandalised, popular music is a mass of violent noise, everyday speech as heard on radio and television is a mumbled jumble, and....and..... And what's new?

We have been converted to digital TV. Hooray! Our picture is now much brighter and sharper. But what is the greatest new feature that I am invited to wonder at? We are now able to receive no fewer than 70 channels! Of these about half a dozen sometimes show something worth watching. The remainder pour out a vast sewage of noise and clatter, of no imaginable value, ready to be lapped up by the rising generation.

Is it any wonder that I may occasionally give an impression of being grumpy? But saddened is what I really am. This is not the world I voted for in 1945.