This story in the Grauniad by Julie Bindel follows the same theme as the one I heard being discussed on Jeremy Vine’s show this week. In that case, it was a retirement village specifically for the over 60s. The one mentioned in the Grauniad article is for those over 45 and child-free.
The Scottish village of Firhall, on the outskirts of Nairn on the Moray Firth, is spotless and smart, a cluster of detached houses overlooking a lake. There is no fence between me and the deep water, and nothing to divide one garden from the next. There are no skateboards here, either. No footballs. No noise. It takes a while, but the penny drops: Firhall is the first and only village in Britain from which children are banned, and it shows.
To buy a property in the village, you have to be 45-plus with no dependent family in tow, and you must sign a contract agreeing not to sell property on to those with children.
Being over 45 and child-free by choice, on the face of it, this would be ideally suited to myself and Mrs Longrider. After all, we recognise and sympathise with the point made by Julie Bindel and some of those made by residents.
The odd time I have criticised smug parents and their badly behaved children, I have been subjected to scores of emails telling me I am heartless and a child-hater.
Yup – if you don’t love the little darlings (or at least tolerate their appalling behaviour) with the same gusto as their doting parents, you are branded as odd, heartless and a child hater – as Bindel says. Been there, done that. Train journeys in the company of badly behaved, ill disciplined children rampaging through the carriage, shouting, screaming and kicking the backs of seats hardly endears one to them…
“I am sick of having conversations with parents about how funny and clever their kids are,” Ivy, a 55-year-old resident, tells me. “I don’t think I noticed how much people go on about their kids until I started living among people who don’t. As soon as I moved in I felt I belonged,” she says. “I am not judged for having no husband or children, or seen as an oddity.”
Again, I have sympathy with this viewpoint. I do not want to hear how so and so’s little Johnnie is some sort of child prodigy. He isn’t, apart from within the confines of the deluded minds of his parents.
“I have nothing against children,” she says, “but their parents drive me bonkers! I could not bear any more stories about school catchment areas.”
I, too, am not in the slightest interested in hearing about catchment areas. It is tedious in the extreme to bore others with this stuff. Parents take note; please refrain. While you might be enthralled by your children, their schooling and their antics, others are less enamoured.
Now if all this makes me sound like some child hating ogre, then you would be wrong. I don’t hate children, I just don’t want any of my own. Consequently, like the residents of Firhall, I don’t want to be deluged with obsessive drivel about them by those who do.
On the other hand… On the other hand…
Is it just me, or is the idea of gated ghettos pandering to one particular demographic group cutting itself off from the rest of society a little creepy? A bit Stepford Wives? Would you want to live in a home where you had to sign a contract restricting your lifestyle? What happens if you change your mind?
In 1977, a couple was forced out of their Florida condominium after having a baby. The unsuccessful age discrimination suit went as far as the supreme court.
Stuff that for a game of soldiers. Given my libertarian tendencies, this village and its restrictions causes me to recoil. I might not want children, but I like this solution even less. I think I’ll stick to the idea that they are around and I don’t mind when they come to the garden gate to play with our cats. The cats, being incorrigible tarts, are more than happy with the arrangement.
Now playing: Queen – Spread Your Wings
When I visit countries such as Italy and Spain I always notice that it is the British kids who are running around the restaurant pushing over the furniture and yelling at each other,ignored by their parents, whilst the children of the locals sit amongst their elders as part of the family.
As an oldie I’m not sure that I fancy being part of some ‘God’s waiting room’ ghetto.