Cameraphone is a curse as much as it is a convenience

The ability to capture a moment, a short, brief piece of video, then to share that instantly, is a brilliant thing. I do this frequently, when the moment takes me.

Moments like when my dog settles himself beneath the curtains, letting the curtain drape over his head in a way that makes him look like a canine Mother Teresa. Normally you wouldn’t have time to dash for the digital camera, but you’re bound to have your phone close by. It’s perfect.

But the cameraphone is a curse as much as it is a convenience. Especially when it comes to concerts, plays, and – the source of my ire this week – children’s Nativity plays.

When I was in primary school, our Nativity plays were simple affairs. Costumes made of tea-towels wrapped around the head – maybe that’s another look for my dog to consider – stilted lines read from a photocopied script, out of tune singing, all captured by a teacher stood at the back of the hall with a VHS camcorder. The videos would then be sold by the school.

It was effective for three reasons. One, it was a good moneymaker for the school. They’d do a roaring trade in sales for the videos. Two, camcorders were owned by the few, not the many. So the school filming the event for posterity allowed those who did not own a camera to watch it again. And, importantly, three, it resulted in there being just one camera in the room, rather than a few filming the whole thing and blocking disgruntled parents’ views of their loved one on stage.

The explosion in popularity of mobile phone cameras – more than three quarters of the UK owns a smartphone – has led to a free-for-all.

People spend more time documenting their lives rather than living them – and the humble Nativity play is no different.

Some schools have banned filming, some have imposed a rather peculiar ban on sharing the videos on social media, but many schools, including my daughter’s, have no such ban.

So it becomes a frustrating hour, jostling to get a view of the stage past a sea of parents all filming on their smartphones. They’re filming it to relive a memory they didn't live in the first place because they were too busy sat with their phones.

What’s the point? Stick your phone on silent, put it in your pocket and stop living your life through a screen.

THE concept of Black Eye Friday is something of an anomaly outside of the North of England.

It’s the perfect storm. Most workplaces finish their work for Christmas on the Friday before the 25th. Office parties are scheduled, which coincides with those returning from university or working away. They all converge in our town centres with the sole intention of getting as drunk as possible.

Police leave is cancelled, while the hospitals set up special wards to cope with the amount of drunken casualties staggering through their doors.

It’s a vulgar representation of where we are as a society. The living for the weekend mentality, blowing all their hard-earned cash in the boozer. Because it’s Christmas.

You’ll hear that a lot over the next fortnight. “Because it’s Christmas”. It becomes a catch-all excuse for all kinds of normally unacceptable behaviour.

Maybe one day people will see the error of their ways and take it a little easier over the festive period. That, regretfully, would be a Christmas miracle.