Susan Morrison: Act now or history will stop repeating itself

Published on Tuesday 21 July 2009 09:46

I TOOK my ten-year-old son to Linlithgow Palace recently to see Historic Scotland's fantastic medieval spectacular. We watched men in knitted metal long johns riding real horses at full gallop whilst deliberately aiming huge pointy sticks at each other.

I suspect jousting gives health and safety advisors the screaming habdabs, but it was massively entertaining. Why the telly hasn't snapped up this blood sport is a mystery to me. Ant 'n' Dec could front Saturday Night Jousting. Get celebs involved! Get them on ice? Celebrity Jousting on Ice, what's not to love?

At Linlithgow, hundreds of children had history brought to life right in front of eyes more used to computer games and CGI movie effects. Little girls shrieked when they realised the horses were real and the little boys' jaws dropped when the lances smashed into shields and knights were unhorsed right in front of us.

Medieval mania took hold, and the stall selling toy battle helmets and swords did a roaring trade. Everywhere you looked, pint-sized members of Proud Edward's army were being sent homeward by Krankie-sized defenders.

Alexander entered the fray with a plastic battle axe and a foam bucket helmet, which he insisted on wearing for the rest of the day. The helmet was resolutely worn on the train home, through Waverley Station, along Princes Street and on the Number 14 bus. Ah, to be ten and wear your new battle helmet because you want to, and caring not a fig for rest of the world.

I've no doubt that history purists would have curled their lips at the day's events. Medieval battle helmets were rarely made of foam, and very few medieval jousts utilised public address systems to keep the audience up to speed on who had just literally bit the dirt. But as an exercise in stimulating a love of history in children's hearts, this couldn't be beaten.

Oh, I can hear the moaning from dusty historian's corner about the Disneyfication of history, but if just one child decides to learn about the real knights, then as far as I'm concerned you can even bring on an American with a dodgy accent to play a great Scottish hero.

We need that stimulation because Scotland seems to be consigning her history to the bin. History teachers will tell you that their subject is sliding further down the curriculum. Education chiefs seem obsessed with the Romans and the Second World War. Television bosses can't get past Henry VIII.

The BBC recently laid on a fine series of Scotland's history with big bucks thrown at it to pay for swoopy helicopter shots, specially-commissioned music and Neil Oliver moodily whispering in the dark. All great stuff, but aimed at the grown-ups among us, and the kids, once again, were left with Henry, the Nazis and Roman centurions. If we don't teach it, our past will be forgotten.

It's started. Go on, try this. Ask ten people how many wives Henry VIII had. I'm guessing you'll get a fair proportion of correct answers. Now ask another ten how many husbands Mary, Queen of Scots had. I'm willing to bet you'll get the similar results to me, which was one right answer, seven wrong answers and two people from Uruguay who wanted to know where the bus station was.

Does history matter? Yes it does. Failing to teach the past lets myth and fable flourish. Scotland has been bedeviled by a sense of victimhood for decades arising from a hazy notion of being bilked. It led to the 'we're so rubbish we let the English take us over' speech in Trainspotting (I paraphrased the language there), and to those chips we just love hauling around on both shoulders.

The notion that we were defeated, crushed and colonised has left us believing ourselves to be second rate. Tosh. The great flowering of the Enlightenment, the incredible industry and ingenuity of the Victorians and the role of the Scots in practically every corner of the globe and in every walk of life were the achievements of a confident, powerful people. We need to rescue our history from tea towels for tourists and put it in our children's hearts and minds.

Counter claims

Another myth to be debunked. Scots can't do customer service. I remember the days when customers could walk into any Scottish shop and confidently expect to be treated as one of the following: A plague carrier; someone lower in the social order; or a confounded nuisance for demanding service during a televised football game or even just a fairly dull conversation with Agnes about jam. Or all of the above.

Well, what's been going on then, eh? During our trip to Linlithgow, helpful staff at Waverley were shepherding excited kids on to the train, Historic Scotland people at the Palace were smiling – yes, smiling – as they handed out passes, and at the end of the day, a taxi driver enthusiastically rushed to help a wheelchair user into his cab.

Is it drugs? What's going on?