Music at Cremations, Royal Birth, Love Island, Instagram

                                        Letters on

                                               Music at Cremations

Sir, At the wake for my late sister’s cremation, I made a selection on the jukebox that I knew would have appealed to her sense of humour. It was Firestarter by the Prodigy.

Our father was horrified, but the gales of laughter from her friends proved that it was an apt choice.

(Ian Blair, Workington, Cumbria, The Times, 2019)

*Sir, I had decided on the Doors version of Come on Baby Light My Fire for when my coffin disappears (report, May 2, and letters, May3). However, a recent edition of Desert Island Discs persuaded me that Gracie Fields would send the congregation happily on their way singing Wish Me Luck as You Wave me Goodbye.

(Esther Rantzen, London NW3, The Times, 2019)

*Sir, With reference to your leader “Wish you were here” (May 2), and its mention of the British sense of humour, my mother, who died aged 107, requested that Smoke Gets In Your Eyes be sung at her cremation.

(Elisabeth Parkman, Abingdon-on-Thames, Oxon, The Times, 2019)

*Sir, I shall be having Ding Dong the Witch is Dead from The Wizard of Oz played at my funeral – or so I’ve been told.

(Christine Coxhill, London SW20, The Times, 2019)


                                                            The Royals

Sir, I am glad that the Duke and Duchess of Sussex’s baby arrived safely but I take exception to talk on the radio and television of the whole nation “rejoicing” and “coming together”. On my walk on Monday afternoon the rape was in full flower. This lifted my heart but I wouldn’t dream of saying “the rape is in flower and this brings the whole nation together”. We all have our individual enthusiasms. To claim universal rejoicing mildly echoes totalitarian governments insisting that “the people” worship their leader: any dissenters are sinisterly erased from history. It is a hangover from the days when Britain itself was a totalitarian country. The genuine celebrations of keen royalists are dishonoured by it.

(James Dixon, Stanningfield, Suffolk, The Times, 2019)




                                                                  Love Island

I was delighted to read that some people will be given eight free therapy sessions, training in life skills, 14 months’ care and funding to boot (i, 23 May)

I assumed that it must be for folk in great difficulties, or for those who have made great sacrifices in a good cause and now need help.

Nope. It’s for contestants on Love Island. This country hasn’t just lost the plot – the plot has been incinerated.

(David Martin, Ilfracombe, Devon, The i, 2019)



                                                                  Hustings

Sir, Further to your letters on political projectiles (May 23 & 24), I recall a hustings in the 1960s when a member of the audience threw a toilet roll at one of the speakers. Unfazed, the candidate remarked: “You could write your thoughts on that and we’d know what to do with them.” The audience appreciated the wit, but the voters elected someone else.

(Michael Patterson, Boston, Lincs, The Times, 2019)

Social Media

The Problem, Ralph Todd (1856-1932) 
Photo Credit:Penlee House Gallery & Museum [CC BY-ND]

 

There was a time when I loved Instagram…Lately, however, I’ve been trying to extricate myself from its surprisingly tight grip. My muscle memory still leads me inexorably to press the icon when I’m on the train, with no signal, but my brain has started to wonder why. Why do I keep checking this when it’s unlikely to have changed from when I last checked it, two minutes ago? And then there’s a quieter voice too - more frank and ashamed: why is it that I am still looking at something that has a tendency to make me, but also plenty of people I know feel bad about our own lives?

I say this as a relatively secure grown up. There is plenty of heart-breaking evidence that its idealised, often manipulated, posts are having a far worse effect on people younger and more impressionable than me, and that’s to say nothing of its deliberately dark corners. Instagram is aware of - - ironic, this – its image problem, and is trialling new ways of making it at least appear to be more responsible.

In Canada this week, the company will begin running tests that hide “likes” from everyone but the owner of an account. “We are testing this because we want your followers to focus on the photos and videos you share, not how many likes they get,” a Snapchat spokesman said.

…Trialling an Instagram without likes is a small gesture that is not nearly as dramatic as it sounds, and it’s one that weakly waves at the problem, rather than doing very much to tackle it. Even if taking away the little red heart begins to dent the hunger for public approval, and it’s a big if, it is unlikely to be fatal to it.

I suspect that users who need it will seek other ways of measuring their worth – in comments, probably, using words or emojis that will fox the rest of us. Rumours of the death of validation culture are greatly exaggerated.

(Rebecca Nicholson, The Guardian, 2019)

Well that’s the question. “Why is it that I am still looking at something that has a tendency to make me, but also plenty of people I know feel bad about our own lives?” Do you answer your question? Is the answer because you have a “hunger for public approval” or is it a way of “measuring their (my) worth?”