10 april 2011, the power of our upbringing

I had a bet on the grand national on saturday; in fact, I had several. Worse, I explained it all to the kids and let them pick a horse each too. When we got back from an excellent and sunny day at shugborough hall, we played the race we'd taped (or I guess these days we must say skyplussed) and the youngest's 150-1 shot, santa's son, was pretty much up front for the first half, as he and his brother started planning all the things they were going to buy with their winnings. It was heart in mouth stuff - if he lost, dreadful disappointment; if he won, a life of gambling as he tried to recreate that first triumph. In fact it all ended well: we got 2nd & 5th, no money, some good maths, and two slightly perplexed children, who went slowly to bed without complaint. We always bet when I was a kid, the one time in the year, and now we're back, I do the same - even though I have a lot of sympathy for the racing is rather cruel argument. Our familiarity with the things which we are brought up with very easily enables us to clap a blind eye to things that if we saw in alien circumstances we might take a very different view of. Culture is a powerful force, for the good generally, but sometimes it takes an outsider to call things as they are, and wise owls to listen.