GLANCING at the paper quickly yesterday morning, an amusing story caught my eye. "Residents of a seaside resort woke up to find their beach covered in thousands of bananas."

I pictured scenes reminiscent of the film Whisky Galore!, where a ship load of alcohol is washed up on a remote Scottish island, except, this time, locals would be running home laden with bananas, not bottles.

But something about the third paragraph puzzled me. I read it several times. "Children used the bananas to spell out the names of cities in giant letters on the beach." It didn't ring true. Children spelling out the names of cities in giant letters? What?

Further down, it became clear. "The bananas were washed up at Morskoy in Russia." Ah. Russian children - mucking about, amusing themselves. It didn't happen here. Now it makes sense.

But why is it so difficult to imagine crowds of English children doing the same thing?

Is it because, as we are constantly berated, we are raising a generation too easily entertained indoors with expensive, sophisticated toys, like PlayStations and Gameboys, and stacks of videos and DVDs?

And since we organise so much of their "free" time, ferrying them from one supervised activity to another, they rarely have the chance to initiate anything for themselves.

Sometimes it takes something like the banana story to pull us up short and remind us of what childhood once was and what it has become.

Perhaps I will be proved wrong. Some day, a boat load of bananas may be washed up at Scarborough or Blackpool or Hastings and hordes of excited children will descend on the beach to spell out "Edinburgh", "London" and "Newcastle" in huge, yellow letters. But I don't think so.

A BOY of 12 who weighs 17 stone has not been to school for a year because he was being bullied. Since last November he has spent his days at home watching TV and eating burgers, curries and kebabs. Now, I can't decide who is the crueller - the children who call him "big belly" and "fatty", or the parents who have enabled a child of this age to get into such a state.

MIDDLESBROUGH councillors are hunting the person responsible for leaking news of a £2.3m shortfall in its social services department. They worry the information was deliberately leaked, "in order to create embarrassment". But it is the shortfall that is embarrassing, not the leak. And those vulnerable members of society who are suffering as a result would probably rather councillors spent their time worrying about their plight instead of their own red faces.

THE death of Dr David Kelly was desperately sad and I do feel sorry for his family. But I can't help thinking that, in the throes of grief, it is too easy to point the finger of blame at someone, anyone. Dr Kelly has emerged as a lonely, isolated man who was treated badly and, for some reason, couldn't confide in his loved ones, or be sustained by their support alone. So far, the Hutton Inquiry has painted a picture of a decent man driven to his death. Life may have been difficult, but most people would have struggled on. Why Dr Kelly chose not to is something this inquiry can never get to the heart of. We are in danger of confusing a public scandal with a private tragedy.

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