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Oh, to be young again... Youth has long been romanticised by rosy-eyed grown-ups as a phase of innocence, wonder and responsibility-free exploration. Such views have led to infinite pronouncements like the one famously made by Alfred Whitehead, "The deepest definition of youth is life as yet untouched by tragedy." However, I have an inkling that for most of us, if we think about it, these sentiments will fly in the face of our own youthful experiences.
Like Cyril Connolly, I can't help but see youth as "a period of missed opportunities". Often it was fear of an embarrassing "slip accident" (and by this I mean the kind of youthful faux pas that so often used to leave me blushing) and sometimes it was pure wastefulness or idleness, but I can't help but wonder where I would be today if my younger self had been more resolute in following his ambitious instincts.
My short-lived association with one of the nation's top boys' choirs is a case in point. When I was but still a wide-eyed 8-year-old who used to lock himself in his bedroom, listening to Mahler and writing poetry at a rate so frantic and inspired that I surely risked industrial injury, my school was visited by some teachers from one of the nation's top choir schools.
My voice, and you'd struggle to believe me if you heard my 7am croak, was at that point as ethereal and untarnished as it will ever be. The visiting teachers agreed too, and said that I could be fast-tracked for a chorister scholarship.
At first, I was terribly excited, as too were my parents at the tantalising prospect of giving me a free first-class education. I even attended a summer induction week. However, it was while I was there that I endured one of my blush-inducing "slip accidents", wetting the bed for the first (and only) time since I was about four. In fairness, it was also my first ever trip away from home, but it scarred me knowing that all the kids sharing the dorm knew about my nocturnal incontinence. In the long run, I now know it wouldn't have mattered, but it was too shameful for me then. In the end I returned to the rather less Arcadian world of my state comprehensive. Opportunity lost.
This is not even the defining "opportunity lost" of my youth. There have been countless others. I am definitely inclined to agree that "youth is wasted on the young".
Perhaps this is why I sometimes lose patience with the hesitations of my own children. As someone who didn't have the courage ever use the climbing equipment in a playground, I know all too well just how important such play is in developing vital social and motor skills. If the playground looks safe and well-designed, a trip and slip accident is the last thing on my mind. It also helps explain why, unlike so many other parents, I am so pleased to see my kids carefreely climbing trees.
As Justine Robert, the woman who founded mumsnet.com comments, "It is the mums and dads that have to deal with the bruises and cuts, but broadly speaking I think that we will have to be brave and allow our children to take physical risk because, within reason, that is the way that they learn."
"When you see your two-and-a-half year-old on a climbing frame your heart is in your mouth and that is normal but I think most parents realise that at some point their children have to take physical risks; most recognise the benefits of learning through play. We can be overprotective but it is impossible to wrap children in cotton wool."
A good sentiment, I think. And certainly one that is worth following if childhood is going to fulfill its potential for wonder and exploration. We may not be able to legislate against all missed opportunities, but it is surely wrong to deny children the opportunity to play.
