Can alcohol take away worries?

My column in the Herald Express 20th September 2012

SOME years ago I spent a little time at Buckfast Abbey in quiet mediation. I have always enjoyed the spiritual ambiance of the abbey where somehow the detritus of daily life simply falls away. Why am I telling you this? Well, the other day I happened to be chatting to a bloke with a well-developed social conscience about the things that were happening locally. He had recently walked around our local town centres and had also the misfortune to be caught up in the drunken maelstrom that is Torquay's Strand on a Saturday night.


He asked me why I thought our town centres seemed devoid of vibrant life and totally lacking in energy.
Now that is not an easy question to answer even though many take regular pops as to why that might be.
The usual cry is that it is all down to parking meters, the weak decisions of local councillors, dull shops, out of town supermarkets et cetera et cetera. Hmm. If only it was that simple.

But his second point made me spend a little time pondering about Saturday night drunkenness. Alcohol, of course, has always been a very effective social anaesthetic and given the nature of our 'Big Society' you can see why it is becoming increasingly popular today particularly among our young folk. For that brief moment the worries of day-to-day life can be obliterated by an alcoholic daze that transcends the here and now. It is that moment of atmospheric immortality. But eventually the cruel reality of the dawning of a new day as the downward despairing spiral takes a merciless hold.

His telling of these two events is connected, although I don't think that he had actually made the connection.
They are connected by an increasingly sinister malfunction that is eating away at the fabric of our society.
What is that malfunction? Well, in truth, I think that it might be the loss of hope. Hope, after all, is said and done was the last thing left in Pandora's Box.

The closing of so many small shops in and around the town signals the loss of hope by the independent traders coupled with the dislocation of the local community. That sort of hope has an energy that cannot be seen, yet when it has gone you certainly know it.

Each of those closed shops is usually a shattered dream, a loss of work and yes, a loss of hope. Add to that the closed guest houses, businesses and other employment sources and you start to get a rather sinister toxic mix. The trouble is that once the community energy seeps away, as it did with the closing of the local Post Office, it is so hard to get back. A little like goodwill, I guess.

It saddens me that the loss of hope is also creeping through the next generation and headlines like that over one-million young people are out of work make me shiver. Just think about that. One million. The population of Torbay is around 134,000, so that is like having seven lots of Torbay made up of young people out of work. That is a disgrace.

So my friend with the well-developed social conscience asked me how we could change this feeling of hopelessness. When you are being battered by daily life that is a difficult question to answer or even fully understand.

But taking yourself out of the daily detritus in the quiet of an abbey or distant hill top does give you a chance to take stock. For me, the starting point is about identity and how we see ourselves and those around us.

The second point is the willingness to share this life journey and avoiding the selfish greediness that is very much part of our fractured community.

Now find me leadership that isn't shaped by a political agenda but will simply represent the people working toward a greater good.

Perhaps now is the time to open the windows and let the light come in.

Keep the smile!