Our grandchildren are penniless. They have pretty much everything their hearts desire and they have parents with wallets full of plastic, but they lack the satisfying chink of coins in a jam jar.
I was alerted to this state of affairs when one of our tribe turned nine and I asked his mother how much pocket money he was getting. The answer was: nothing. The very words ‘pocket money’ seemed to strike her as quaint.
I said: ‘But what if he wants to walk down to the shops to buy a comic?’ The answer was that such a thing was very unlikely to occur to him but, if it did, she would drive him to the shop and pay for the comic.
There, in a nutshell, were two worrying trends. If his mother always pays for everything, what possible chance does he have to understand money? And if he never walks to the corner shop without a hovering adult, when is he going to learn to deal with traffic, cruising pervs and big boys intent on robbing him?
My interest was piqued. I cast my net wider. A granddaughter, also aged nine, informed me that money comes from a machine. You just press the keypad and money comes out. And what if it doesn’t? What if it says ‘insufficient funds’? Well duh, you just go to another machine. She had no idea there was a connection between her parents enduring the Victoria Line rush-hour twice a day and the cash dispensed by the Money Fairy from a hole in the wall.
Speaking of fairies, the Tooth Fairy does still visit, giving today’s child a rare encounter with coin of the realm. I’m told the going rate for a cavity-free milk tooth is a quid, but trending strongly towards £2.
Comments
Join the debate for just £1 a month
Be part of the conversation with other Spectator readers by getting your first three months for £3.
UNLOCK ACCESS Just £1 a monthAlready a subscriber? Log in