Yes, we are what we eat but let’s not be silly about it

http://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/2015/jun/07/we-are-what-we-eat-food-allergies

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A new study from Sense About Science finds that while one third of parents claim that their children have allergies, only 5% actually do.

Some of those children are missing out on food groups, even becoming malnourished, because of incorrect parental diagnosis, often undertaken in worried-well good faith, after parents have purchased high street food-allergy testing kits with dubious scientific basis. Conversely, real allergies are sometimes trivialised and cases of anaphylaxis (potentially lethal allergic reactions) have spiked, partly, it’s thought, because of rising general cynicism about allergies. There’s also a concentration of “allergic” children in affluent districts, while children in underprivileged areas remain remarkably non-afflicted, or at least non-diagnosed.

Let’s be honest about this last detail – is anyone even slightly surprised?

It would appear that a certain sector of British society may have entered the middle-class, parental Twilight Zone of competitive neuroticism. Or, if you prefer, Goopville, named after the Gwyneth Paltrow site that helped to popularise the notion that if your child enjoyed anything more wicked than a spelt muffin then you weren’t taking your parenting duties seriously. This is the same attitude that leads to parents pompously handing out organic carob shards as their child’s “sweet treat” as if letting them scarf down a Freddy Frog would result in the dismantling of western civilisation.

An adult self-diagnosing with some spurious allergy or food intolerance is their own business; if you want to bore your friends rigid with your entirely imaginary diet sensitivities, then knock yourself out! Nor are micro-managing parents new. I remember play-dates from way back when I’d receive tragic Tupperware boxes full of a child’s “special diet” or lists of “special restrictions”(special being the recurring motif). These would be the same children who’d end up looting the sweet drawer in the manner of crazed addicts on day release from rehab, while the “non-special” children gaped in astonishment and pity at their desperate display. Now it seems that these restricted special children have become “allergic special children” or “food-intolerant special children”, and there are a lot more of them about than there used to be.

Some may feel that it’s a bit rich of me to carp about diet restrictions when I’m vegetarian. What’s more, I am not immune to parental dietary angst. After an initial (ahem, cough) “hands-off” approach to child nutrition (“Who are these short demanding people and why am I lumbered with the task of feeding them?”), increasingly I’ve taken an interest in what’s eaten and I’ve become worryingly partial to apocalyptic books about sugar, wheat, et al. However, I draw the line at adopting a parental mindset that dictates that, if you’re not over-reacting, micro-managing, frazzled, anxious and relentlessly diagnostic about your child’s diet, then you clearly don’t care enough.

Aside from obvious health reasons, this is galling because there’s nothing glamorous or fun about genuine food allergies – I always think when I see nut allergy warnings on school forms that these children must have a horrible time. To my mind, the culture of relentless amateur diagnosing also strays dangerously into the arena of Munchausen syndrome by proxy: in the sense that the parent gets to feel special because their “allergic” child is special – leastways at every mealtime.

The good news is that most fearful, micro-managing parents would sense such idiocy brewing within, have a good laugh at their own behaviour, and adjust and reset accordingly. But then there are the others, who are not self-aware and for whom this brand of competitive neuroticism is always going to be a big shiny badge of parental honour and a sign that they truly care. By which they mean, far more than you do.

No comfort cardigan for this glamorous gran

Caitlyn Jenner’s Vanity Fair cover was remarkable for many reasons, not least her sheer va-va-voom.

After so long repressing her true self, you could forgive her for not wanting to look like a regular 65-year-old woman – for wanting to go the glamorous route and not, say, be sitting there in a cosy cardi, without her rollers in. (Not that 65-year-olds have been like that since about 1955.)

In that sense, then, this is a celebrity story. I’d imagine that many transgender women would be at pains to have normal, everyday wardrobes, ordinary clothes that any woman would stroll around in.

The point would be to manifest as your womanly true self, not as a celebrity.

After the initial fuss, I wouldn’t be at all surprised if Jenner herself, too, had many periods when she quite pointedly dresses down.

That approach doesn’t play too well on a high-profile magazine cover. So good for Jenner for unleashing her “wow” factor – but I doubt that it will be the full story.

Who needs Clarkson’s little helpers?

There are rumours that Richard Hammond and James May have been offered a hefty pay increase to continue presenting Top Gear for the BBC, even though Jeremy Clarkson has been fired.

I’m not as abrim with Clarkson-hate as others seem to be (though, in the past, I’ve had to cause to wonder if his passport should be confiscated for the sake of the British reputation abroad). However, Clarkson went too far with his behaviour and it was right to sack him. Sadly for Clarkson, this was spoiled dauphin syndrome at its most disgusting and entrenched – if he’d been told off properly (and a lot earlier), he would probably never have arrived at the sad point of becoming the only diva in town wearing dad jeans.

But now I’m a mite confused. It’s as though Clarkson has been left carrying the can for what appears to have been a much wider cultural malaise at Top Gear. Hammond and May were a key part of this culture, the omnipresent cheerleaders for Clarkson’s every “rebellious” action and utterance. Clarkson was the big man flicking the towel in the televisual locker room, but they were undoubtedly his enablers, willing henchmen chortling obligingly at everything he said and did.

This was the precisely the megalomaniac, untouchable ethos that appeared to contribute to Clarkson feeling that it was perfectly reasonable to harangue and attack that BBC employee the way he did.

Yet somehow, Hammond and May have emerged spotless from the situation, to the point where the BBC feels that it’s fine to offer them huge amounts of money to return without Clarkson. Perhaps Hammond and May do not want to continue doing Top Gear without their friend, but should the offer have been made to them in the first place?