SACRED HEART PARISH
Waterlooville 

THOUGHT FOR THE WEEK

In the United States, John Glenn, aged 77, seeks to be blasted into space as a pensioner-astronaut, and retorts to those who criticise him for folly and vanity that his journey will aid research into the effects of weightlessness on old human bones and joints. Meanwhile, nearer home, in wildest Norfolk, the technological revolution comes less easily to one of our older citizens. Mrs. Hilda White, aged 82, for 60 years sub-postmistress of the village of Saxthorpe (not very near anywhere, but sort of between Norwich and the Wash) has just handed in her notice as she has been obliged – and refuses – to go on a computer course. This will mean no more post office in Saxthorpe, as nobody else wants the job.

"I told them all you need to run a village post office is good brains, but they wouldn’t listen," she said. The computer jargon caused her sleepless nights and the attendant shock forced to her to start walking with a stick.

The Post Office spokesman’s attempts to be sympathetic but firm were a masterpiece of the patronising put-down. "Mrs. White," said he, "is one of a handful of technophobic postmistresses, most of them of a senior age. I know the prospect of having a computer may have been a factor in making her want to hang up her handstamp after all these years, but we have to prepare all post offices for the 21st century."

All of which makes it sound as if Mrs. White was around at the introduction of the penny post, with her handstamp at the ready. Now it may or may not matter that a small Norfolk village post office is staffed by a wretched incompetent technophobe scratching away with a quill pen; the spokesman talked of computers helping to eliminate benefit fraud, but I bet you if anybody tried a benefit fraud in Saxthorpe Mrs. White’s 82 years of village knowledge would soon see them off. But what is galling is the implication that Mrs. White has nothing to offer.

Christianity doesn’t – or shouldn’t – see old age like that. One of the Psalms says of the old that they are "like a wineskin in the smoke", filled with wine and hung up over the open fire in order to mature. Outside they become dark, wrinkled and possibly unattractive. Inside they are filled with good, rich wine, waiting to be tasted and enjoyed. Maybe somebody at ‘HQ’ should see what good wine of experience Mrs. White has to offer; the locals seem to appreciate it well enough. Otherwise it will be a case of "villager defeated by mouse". And if you don’t understand that allusion, you are obviously a technophobe.