THE question used to be put to small children by aunts, uncles and grandparents: “What do you want to do when you grow up?”

Some lofty ambitions were revealed — film stars, air pilots, weathermen and footballers among them — but many youngsters were content with less spectacular jobs.

“And I think you will make a very good bank clerk/

typist/auctioneer/hairdresser/police officer,” said Auntie smilingly, depending on the child’s stated choice.

This supportive interest was an encouraging spur. More than 60 years ago a thoughtful uncle gave this columnist his first portable typewriter, a valuable tool of the trade.

The avoidance of work is now the aim of many people, some of them youngsters, judging by a headline in The Times: “Long-term jobless face option of four weeks’ work or loss of benefits”.

Work and Pensions Secretary James Purnell was announcing measures to tackle the “won’t work” syndrome — notably the introduction of the Flexible New Deal (FND), under which people will be prepared for work by teaching them new skills and giving personalised help.

However, the most effective part of Mr. Purnell’s plan may well be a threat to cut benefits from all claimants who will not do at least a month’s work or “work-related activity”.

Bring back Uncle Frank and Auntie Milly with their kindly questions and comments about the work ethic and the need to get a good job.

SPEAKER WITH STYLE

The heated controversy over MPs’ expenses centred on the Speaker of the House of Commons, Michael Martin, stirred a memory of a previous holder of that distinguished office with local connections.

The Speaker from 1905 until 1921 was James William Lowther, a nephew of the 3rd Earl of Lonsdale, and at one time resident as tenant of the Hutton John mansion, near Penrith.

The fact that J. W. Lowther was later given the title of Viscount Ullswater suggests that his Speakership was an honourable one, without any hint of misbehaviour.

The late Roy Hudleston, a one-time editor of the Penrith Observer, told a good story of J. W. Lowther, in his armorial of Cumbrian families.

During a debate in the House of Commons, an MP who insisted on challenging one of his rulings, asked finally, “Mr. Speaker, what appeal is there against your decision?”

“None,” came the calm and instantaneous reply. “Like the Pope, I am infallible.”

Away from his duties as Penrith MP, J. W. Lowther was keen on cricket and a one-time president of the MCC.

He made a lighthearted speech to the Penrith club on the shortcomings of Cumbrian pitches.

“I would mention that on one occasion, in a match I remember, a covey of partridges rose from between the wickets,” he said — presumably jokingly!

“GAG” ON FOOTBALLERS

New moves to “clean up” football by banishing swear-words from fields of play are most worthy, but, if the occasional four-letter word is to be banned, how will the striker react on shooting wide of an open goal?

And what words of agony will the speedy wingman utter when he is laid low by a fullback’s crunching tackle?

“Tut, tut”… “Oh, dear me”… “Ouch”… “Please, old boy, be careful where you put your feet.”

Extreme pain can limit the word-power of injured footballers, who may also express disgust forcibly on missing a simple chance to score.

Penrith footballers are collaborating in a Northern League campaign to rid pitches of excessive swearing, although the current players may well be less offensive in their language than teams long ago — more than 100 years back, in fact.

After a stormy match at Appleby, intended to be a “friendly” fixture, a home supporter wrote to the Herald describing the Penrith team as being “as wild as the untaught Indian’s brood, devoid of either sense or dignity”.

A home fan, calling himself “Ardent footballer”, penned an even fiercer criticism after watching a “medals” match on Penrith’s ground.

“The expletives and general language of both players and onlookers were such as to thoroughly disgust me,” he wrote.

“The representative club of a respectable town such as Penrith certainly ought to be free from the filthy language usually associated with a low-class tap room or music hall.”

Standards of behaviour tended to improve when sides were more successful and that applied both on the pitch and in the crowd.

That said, some spectators were exemplary in their conduct, including a rosy-faced man from the Clifton area, who watched from the grandstand 40-50 years ago. When the Blues scored an important goal he often burst into song, generally Land of Hope and Glory.

CHANCE TO MAKE FORTUNE

One of the more unusual items in the mail recently was an invitation to go gold panning!

“This is a treat not to be missed,” says Ian Tyler, who runs the Keswick Mining Museum, as well as writing many books on Lakeland mines.

“Try your hand at making your fortune,” Ian urges. “Lovely little crystals and minerals to take away with you. The gold is a bit harder to find.”

Cumbria-based adventurers rarely have opportunities to search for gold — and a session costs only £2.