Mike Priestley: Who's Counting?

Just over a year ago, for example, I would have shuddered at the thought of attending a first birthday party and sharing a living room with a cluster of young mothers and their toddlers and enough toys to stock a small commercial nursery.

But there I was, on parade to celebrate Sam's first year and thoroughly enjoying myself amid the bustle and the nursery food: the bread sticks and crisps, the fingers of cheese and the tiny sausages. And, of course, the cake with its single candle, which Sam needed a bit of help to blow out after we'd sung Happy Birthday to him.

Directional blowing, to order, isn't a skill many one-year-olds have managed to acquire. Lumbering along behind a baby walker is, though. Sam had only just learned this new trick a couple of days earlier - the penultimate stage in his progress from helpless infant to full independent vertical mobility - and kept showing off his skill on a circuit that took in the hall, kitchen and living room.

Each time he reappeared, he was grinning with pride and basking in the cries of "Clever boy!"

This was a real family gathering encompassing four generations. There were four grandparents there, two great-grandparents (one of whom was just 80 years older than the star of the afternoon), an aunt and an uncle and lots of friends.

Everything went really well, because the children haven't yet reached the age at which they start fighting over toys and falling out. If my memory is true, that comes later. In fact, it might have started as early as next year's party and will get steadily worse for the following few years. I remember one nightmarish party for my son when he was seven. We did it in style, hiring the local church hall and arranging all manner of games. It was a rowdy, disorderly affair.

One red-haired lad was particularly obnoxious. He refused to play any games if he didn't think the prize was good enough to make it worth the effort. And when he did play, he cheated.

Come tea time, there was a slight delay before the goodies were brought out of the kitchen and put on display. He started to bang his spoon on the table, chanting "We want our food! We want our food!"

My mother-in-law gave him a stern look and said: "I bet you don't behave like that at home, do you?"

"No," retorted the ginger brute. "We don't have to wait for our food at home!"

I gave children's parties a miss after that. I became an absent father on party days, taking the unashamedly sexist line that children's parties are women's work.

We've all learned to be politically correct in the quarter of a century since then, haven't we? But if Sam's future parties look to be heading down that same road, this granddad could find that his work commitments have to take priority.

I Don't Believe It!

Forget about petty grumbles and gripes this week. There are a couple of serious complaints on the agenda.

Mr Peter Allen is a victim twice over - of ill health and of city-centre planners. He phoned the other day to report what can happen when politicians and planners come up with ideas for changes in road lay-outs and don't think things through.

Mr Allen and his wife live not far from the city centre, at the top of Church Bank. Because of Mr Allen's disability, when they need to come down into Bradford they have to take a taxi.

The private-hire fare to the Bank Street post office to draw their pension used to cost £1.50, with a £1.70 return fare by hackney carriage - a total of £3.20, which is quite a chunk out of a pension. But it isn't as big a chunk as they have to pay now.

The roads layout has changed, you see. Now the private-hire car that brings Mr and Mrs Allen into town on pension day has to go the long way round: along Petergate to the roundabout, then along Hall Ings and past the Norfolk Gardens Hotel to Jacob's Well roundabout, right round that and back to Hall Ings before finally turning right into Bank Street. That trip now costs the Allens £3.60.

For the return journey, the taxi isn't allowed to turn right into Market Street and go the quickest way to Forster Square and then up Church Bank. It has to turn left, then left again into Bridge Street and swing right behind the City Hall before doing a left turn to take the couple home via Hall Ings and Petergate (or Leeds Road and the Shipley-Airedale road). Cost? About £2.40, making a total for the round trip of £6.

To save money, the Allens have switched to the Darley Street post office. But it still costs them more than it did and they have a slow trail down through the town (Mr Allen walks with the help of a frame) to catch their taxi home.

It's all well and good making life difficult for motorists in the city centre. But it's a cruel policy if it makes life difficult for the old and the infirm as well.

I suppose it's pointless asking the Council to rethink things now the changes have all been done and the pavements have been widened, and all that. But it would make life a bit easier (and cheaper) for some people if at least it would let taxis turn right from Bank Street into Market Street instead of having to go all the way round the houses, wouldn't it?

There's another road problem further out of town, at Low Moor, where Ann Light lives in Moorland View. It's an unadopted road, a cul-de-sac with about 30 houses. About three years ago, someone stole about 20 yards of paving stone from outside a house at the end of the road. They haven't been replaced.

"That has left the pavement very dangerous for the elderly (such as myself) and young women with prams etc.," says Ann. "The actual road is like the Lake district with deep puddles to negotiate. So getting to the main road every day is a nightmare, and there is no other way to do it."

Ann suggests that Moorland View residents could perhaps raise the money to get the road and pavement repaired via one of the Millennium Awards for communities under the scheme backed by the Millennium Commission and Help the Aged.

Possibly, Ann - except as I understand it, for some reason it's for rural areas. I don't know if Low Moor would count as rural, even though it is quite green in parts and the road in question does have a rural-sounding name.

Still, it's probably worth a try if one of the Moorland View residents over 60 would like to represent the rest and ring 0171 2504477 for the necessary paperwork. Closing date is the end of March.

If you have a gripe about anything, drop a line to me, Hector Mildew, c/o Newsroom, T&A, Hall Ings, Bradford BD1 1JR, email me or leave any messages for me with Mike Priestley on (44) 0 1274 729511.

Yours Expectantly,

Hector Mildew

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