Daydreams of a domestic haven

SUCH human tragedies as the Clapham Junction rail disaster, Lockerbie, the MI crash, are very humbling. "There but for the grace of God" springs to mind — one of those cliches that have become commonplace precisely because of the universality of the sentiment they encompass. I heard the news of all three of these recent catastrophes in the safety and warmth of my own home. There, with my possessions around me, in my base, I fed secure, insulated from such threats. But human disasters on a broader, if somehow less immediately shocking scale, happen in homes. Some 5,000 people a year in this country alone die in domestic accidents. A further two million are treated in hospital for injuries sustained in the proverbial castle that is certainly not the haven I fondly imagined it to be.
An exhibition at the Design Council on the Haymarket in central London brought these chilling facts home, literally. "Safer by Design?" won over this inveterate window shopper with an eye catching display of two yellow mangled Minis tangled together in a simulated accident. The text that accompanies this scene of devastation tells of the 2,000 drivers a year who receive hospital treatment for injuries caused by a steering wheel during the impact of a road smash, and of the 200 killed each year when their car runs into the front of a heavy goods' vehicle.
Not so shocking perhaps to any regular motorway traveller because of the frequency of traffic accidents — although the development of a steering wheel that buckles on impact and of an energy absorbing lower bumper for the front of HGVs, revealed in the exhibition, is heartening.
But having been drawn into the Design Centre, I found there less dramatic displays which nevertheless contained a message that is every bit as arresting for Joe Public who like me delude themselves with daydreams of domestic sanctuary.
Stepladders that topple over, in the best Carry On tradition, but leave in their wake 30,000 injuries; household cleaning fluid bottles that despite their protective caps can be undone by resourceful toddlers and thus send 10,000 a year for treatment for poisoning; and others. It would he easy to make a list of the shocking facts that 1 learnt wandering round this exhibition. But that would be to miss the point of the exhibition which is not a domestic ghoul show but rather, as its subtitle "the role of design in a dangerous world" suggests, an encouraging survey of the efforts being made to make both the household goods we all come across, and larger industrial machines and processes, more user-friendly. The 1987 Consumer Protection Act makes manufacturers liable for defective design in their products, and provides for legal redress for those injured as a result of such malpractice.
If all this is a blinding flash of the obvious for you, and I am alone in my hitherto scant disregard for the dangers that just living entail, then go along to "Safer by Design?" anyway for M its succinct yet informative text, in its elegant space-age design and lighting, and in its topical and even entertaining (if that isn't too inappropriate a word given some of the statistics quoted already) presentation, I found myself involved, despite my aversion to such essentially educative and public-minded undertakings.
"Safer by Design?" is open at the Design Centre, Haymarket, London WI until March 24, seven days a week, admission free.
Women in sport
IN this mood of selfimprovement and heightened sensitivity to my environment, it has struck me that all the debate about violence in our society, and especially at football stadia, rarely faces full-on the fact that it is men who commit violent acts, and women, most often, who are their victims. Less than five per cent of our prison population is female, while the thugs that parade on the terraces of soccer grounds are universally male, on the basis of my observations.
That link between men, sport and violence is a particularly baffling one that can't simply be put down to the role of sports' events as mass-gatherings, and hence opportunities for those of a violent disposition to vent their predilection. It must have something to do with sport itself as a channel for competitive, aggressive stirrings, at least for the male population.
The most often quoted explanation for this violence imbalance — men's strength — is in the process of being debunked each Sunday evening on Channel 4 for the next 13 weeks. Women in Sport, directed by the Catholic Herald's sometime reporter, film critic and jill-of-all-trades, Coky Giedroyc, shows how women excel in the sports that combine grace and agility — trampolining, gymnastics and the like — and how when presented with an implement, be it bat or stick or racket, in the pursuit of their sport, they wield it not as an instrument of violence, but rather in an aesthetic fashion.
One striking facet of the programmes is the fact that they demonstrate just how few sports there are where men and women compete on an equal basis. Equestrianism is the only mainstream example yet it is a sport that demands strength to control the horses. And women like Lucinda Green, Virginia Leng and indeed the Princess Royal, often beat men hands down.
All of which leaves me no more enlightened as to sports connection with male violence. But do watch these ten minute slots, produced by Southampton-based Span Productions, if only to inform yourself about the substantial, and substantially unsung, achievements of women in sport.
Aids concern
CONTINUING in the vein of informing and learning, the recently established Catholic Aids Link, a group offering nonjudgemental, spiritual, emotional and practical support to those affected by Aids and the HIV infection, is holding a day of reflection at Heythrop College in Central London on Saturday February 18.
The organisers can be contacted at CAL, 45 Bonner Hill Road, Kingston, Surrey KT I 3EU.
Canterbury's way
IT is the broad-mindedness of the Anglican Church that I most admire. Some might call it lack of definition, but for me the Church of England seems less hidebound in dealing with the pressing needs of this world than our own church.
A visit on Sunday to Canterbury Cathedral reinforced this prejudice. It managed to combine the ancient with the new more successfully than most of Britain's great churches. Modern stained glass designs in the trancept complement rather than clash with the simple Norman majesty of the nave. The shrine to Thomas Becket, murdered in 1170 in the cathedral, stands alongside that to the twentieth century martyrs. And in the spirit of ecumenism that the Anglican Church has led the way in promoting, this chapel in the cathedral of the primate of the established church was devoted to Edith Stein, a Jew who converted to Catholicism and met her death amid Hitler's butchery, and Martin Luther king, a Baptist preacher. Alongside the quire, Christian Aid posters shared a display reminding visitors of the wider world with those of Cafod, its Catholic equivalent.
And unlike all too many of our great cathedrals, Canterbury made no attempt to demand money from you at every turn. This house of God was for all to enjoy. Financial concerns were relegated to an appropriate place.
One feature that did strike me as unsettling though was the array of marble • V ictoriana plaques and headstones in both aisles of the nave. Not only did their sheer number and unmitigated garishness mar the majestic simplicity of the towering columns of the nave, but the random lists of those killed in action at war gave me an uncomfortable feeling. It is not that I am questioning the need for a name-all war memorial in cathedrals and indeed local churches, but rather the purpose of so many plaques which recalled individual fighters whose bravery was no doubt equalled by those whose families could not afford to mark it so lavishly and publicly.