Single child families and an epidemic of loneliness

The only child hasn't had to fight his corner at home - and in consequence can find it much harder to deal with the brutality of school

The only child hasn't had to fight his corner at home - and in consequence can find it much harder to deal with the brutality of school

The news that nearly half of British families today have only one child conjures visions of a bleak and regimented country where joy is limited and money is tight.

Which is not to say I can't understand how, to a proportion of parents, it must seem an entirely rational decision.

After all, many young couples struggle to get so much as a foot on the housing ladder, and the cost of childcare is eye-watering. For other parents, of course, there is no choice.

A lot of couples face the sadness of being unable to have another baby, whether for medical reasons or because they're divorced or widowed. It's a grief often left unspoken, as it can be difficult to express without sounding ungrateful for the child they already have.

But for those who've made a deliberate decision not to have more than one child, I can only urge them to think again, right now - before it's too late.

Because however sensible it may seem financially, having more than one child isn't just better for them - it's better for you, too.

It doesn't feel that way at first, of course. A single child is so much easier to manage than two: thrown into the company of adults, your precious little one is likely to be both better behaved and more mature than those with siblings.

An Only child also confides in his mother far more than his friends with siblings do. The bond between them will often be extremely close, until one of two things happens: either it becomes dangerously suffocating, preventing the child from really growing up; or it breaks down in adolescence, leaving the mother bereft and the child feeling guilty.

Crucially, though, an only child misses out on all the joy (as well as the pain) that a brother or sister brings. Of course, there's no competition more intense than that between siblings, vying for everything from food and toys to their parents' attention and love. But if there's a better preparation for life, no one's yet discovered it.

It teaches us that the universe does not revolve around ourselves. It schools us in those crucial negotiating skills that will come in so useful in later life - whether with spouses, colleagues or our own offspring. And it equips us with the robustness to cope with the knocks we may face along the way.

The only child, by contrast, hasn't had to fight his corner at home - and in consequence can find it much harder to deal even with the brutality of school, let alone that of the corporate world.

Most siblings have vivid memories of vicious childhood fights - I still remember my brother lashing at me with his leather guitar strap, and me in turn throwing aftershave in his eyes - but what we also learn is that as we grow up they can be our greatest support. That becomes especially true as your parents become increasingly old and infirm.

For an only child, the often harrowing and costly process of caring for  mum and dad in their final years is a burden that must be borne without a sibling's help.

And when those parents pass away, a sibling is also your greatest consolation: brothers and sisters not only share your grief but, crucially, your memories. They are the ones you can laugh with over those old summer holiday snaps and who can recall those joyful shared moments you've forgotten.
True, not all siblings get along well, with petty childhood squabbles often magnified into enduring feuds. But unlike failed friendships or broken marriages, you cannot escape them entirely. For better or worse, those bonds of blood are with you for life.

And without them, we are giving rise  to a generation who are increasingly introspective and isolated. As the  growing numbers of adults now living alone attests, what is gained in self- sufficiency is paid for with a sweeping epidemic of loneliness.

Yes, times are tough, and one-child families may be better off materially. But they'll have been deprived of something far more precious than money.

 
How depressing that Judi Dench should have been voted one of the most inspirational women of all time

How depressing that Judi Dench should have been voted one of the most inspirational women of all time

It's only acting

How depressing that Judi Dench and Helen Mirren should have been voted the two most inspirational women of all time. They're fine actresses, but I'm sure they would be the first to agree their achievements count for little compared with those of Emmeline Pankhurst, who came third, or Margaret Thatcher and Florence Nightingale, who came sixth and seventh. We really are in trouble when we can't distinguish between acting for entertainment and acting for a cause.

What Mr Tesco could teach the NHS

How cheering to read that the NHS is finally taking concrete steps to improve. Not only will trainee nurses spend a year on the wards doing basic tasks such as washing  and feeding patients, but the mandarins in Whitehall who run  the Department of Health will each spend a week learning what it's like to work in a hospital.

But they're not the only ones who should goback to the shop floor. When he was running Tesco, Sir Terry Leahy made a point of spending a week every year stacking shelves and working on the checkout. ('You're not very good,' one woman told him as he slowly processed her shopping. 'But you tried hard and I think you'll go far in Tesco.')

Sir Terry says that the first time he did it he learned more in that week than in the whole of the previous year. He made sure his senior managers did the same, so they could discover for themselves how a decision taken in a remote office could transform the way half a million staff worked - and not always for the better. It was surely one reason why, under his stewardship, Tesco became a £35 billion juggernaut.

The Leahy shop floor principle should become law. I'd like to see every chief constable spending a week on the beat, every education minister and civil servant spending a week trying to teach a class of bored 15-year-olds - and every GP made to spend a week trying to make an appointment, get a blood test and find help at 2am for a worryingly sick child.

 

While we're on the subject of actresses, what message does the ethereally beautiful, endearingly kooky Tilda Swinton think she's sending by sleeping seven hours a day in a glass cabinet in New York's Museum of Modern Art? All it says to me is: Tired working mother needs rest. That's nothing  new - and it's certainly not art.

William Hague smirking like a  16-year-old beside Angelina Jolie

William Hague smirking like a 16-year-old beside Angelina Jolie

Willie's smitten

William Hague is worked tirelessly as Foreign Secretary, applying his intellect and diplomatic  prowess to a seemingly unending succession of crises everywhere from Afghanistan and Iraq to Libya, Algeria and Syria.

So his decision to go to Rwanda on an entirely unnecessary UN trip seemed baffling - until we saw that picture of him smirking like a  16-year-old beside Angelina Jolie. It only goes to show even a man with a mind as sharp as Hague's can be reduced to a simpering schoolboy by a beautiful woman.

Boris will bounce back

The most penetrating comments about Boris Johnson in Monday's fascinating BBC2 documentary came from his old foe, Ken Livingstone.

He pointed out not only his greatest strength - 'Boris makes people feel good about themselves' - but also his greatest weakness: 'He wants to be loved, even by people he's destroying.'

Most people know Boris has been unfaithful, doesn't always tell the truth and isn't as bumbling as he appears.

Despite all this, they can't help liking him. Why? Because he's how they'd like to be:  passionate and unafraid.

He's also a natural communicator with a talent for self-deprecation and sharp - but never cruel - wit.

Like Churchill, he's clever, creative and has a huge appetite for life.

So how will history remember him? It depends on events: cometh the hour, cometh the man. Boris has the potential to be truly great - or truly awful.

But of one thing I'm sure. Not even the iron fist of velvet-gloved Eddie Mair can curb his determination to be prime minister.

 

Carol Vorderman, who broke her nose falling off her high heels while running downstairs, needs to learn a simple rule: only wear them indoors, on the flat. For all other forms of walking, take a tip from New Yorkers, the savviest, sassiest dressers in the world: always have a pair of trainers in your handbag.

 

Bikram Choudhury, yoga guru to the stars, is alleged to be a sexual predator whose chat-up lines include the immortal: 'My wife doesn't understand me.' I'm sure she doesn't. Frankly, any man eager to make a sexual advance to those who emerge sweat-soaked and beetroot-faced after a 90-minute yoga session in a room at a temperature of 40c doesn't know much about women.

 

With banks in Cyprus closed until Thursday, the euro in crisis and all of us uncomfortably aware that our money no longer feels secure anywhere, an article in the FT - where else? - suggests a solution: invest in a new Spanish invention, a mattress with a  built-in safe.

It's sold, naturally, with the slogan:  'Now you can  sleep peacefully.'

That's all very well. But what happens when it's time to turn the mattress over?

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