Olympic Gymnastics, Housing Estate Version.

    I seldom plan posts. One of the joys of blogging is that you write about what YOU like. I seldom write about the current news so, writing roughly weekly I'm never sure what to write about next.

    I was, with my wife in my favourite pub the other day. Called The Oaklands, in a way its a typical estate pub. Badly in need of a refit (Pub chains are more interested in profits than the comfort of the customers I fear). The clientele is mixed to say the least. But the beer is good, the staff are welcoming and the place works hard to survive in these austere times. Plus the Oaklands serves excellent meals and the staff have an excellent understanding of my wife's problems. (No I don't mean being married to me, my wife is a coeliac and MUST have a diet that is absolutely without question gluten free.)

    We sat in the pub, the door was open with a clear view across the road. In view was scaffolding surrounding some shops; it has been there some considerable time thus attracting various youngsters, from the very young to late teenage. (seemingly mainly if not exclusively male.) And the gyrations, the swinging from the scaffolding gave much food for thought. Foolhardy, certainly, but containing some moves that were both unusual and skilful. Where were such gymnastics learnt, I wonder.

    'Health and Safety' would certainly not approve! Neither did anyone in the pub. At one stage the police did appear, but the 'action' ceased only for the time the police were present. Now I'm not condoning the youngsters actions but think for a minute. Why are these youngsters using the scaffolding for their own purpose. It reminds me of the Everest conquest in 1953. 'Why did you climb it' they were asked. 'Because it was there.' I had no scaffolding available in my formative years; therefore I never climbed scaffolding. Instead I placed pennies on railway lines; I 'swam' in the River Derwent and the Borrowash Canal, although 'swam' is a misnomer because I was a non-swimmer at the time. In the farmyard I climbed high on the straw bales, drove farm machinery and once climbed into a pen, accidentally that housed a bull.(I climbed out a lot faster than I climbed in!)

    It's all part of growing up, 'horses for courses' so to speak and not everyone survives. Several of my peers died young. I've no answers as to why some did, some didn't (survive).

    One final point. Its the Olympics very shortly in case you haven't noticed. How many of the sportsmen or women at the top get there without help or influence. Tiger Woods, one of the best golfers in the world' playing golf at the age of three due to influencial, parenting. Andy Murray, not a bad tennis player, certainly by British standards. The son of a professional tennis player. Victoria Pendleton, British world champion cyclist on several occasions is the daughter of a somewhat fanatical racing cyclist in his heyday. You get the picture plus I wonder how many of the parents of the 'gymnasts' knew where their offspring were. (and perhaps even cared.) Most who reach the top in sport have advantages other kids don't have. I wonder too what Derby has to offer teenagers who strive for sporting success. One final thought. The youngsters on the scaffolding looked fit enough to me, unlike their audience including myself; plus it's cheap entertainment. Perhaps a case of 'pub clientele, eat your heart out!'