Seòmar agus comataidhean

Convener, could we do a follow-up and see whether there is an audit of what happens at the end of the day, what follow-up there was from Borders Union and from Borders College, which also had a stall there? It seems to me that that is an interesting thing for local employment. You employ people locally, they spend locally.

Yes, that is not a problem—you have made it plain that you are responsible for their welfare only at the track. However, you have commented on the welfare of the animals with their owners when they are not at the track and afterwards. How can you know about that when you are responsible for their welfare only at the track?

No, it is not. Please do it. I am a consumer and I want this to happen. Normally, I can afford to pay inflation prices but, when I look at the prices on the shelves at the moment, even I say that I am not paying £1.50 for a cauliflower.

Mr Brignal, you said in your opening statement that you are responsible for the welfare of the dogs only at the track. Is that correct?

I appreciate that this is perhaps not the minister’s portfolio now.

The wives and partners of people who are serving in the armed forces, such as those who live in my constituency at Glencorse barracks, find it very difficult to sustain employment because of regular relocation. Is there a role for Women’s Enterprise Scotland, for example, in assisting partners to establish their own businesses that they can take with them as they move around?

To ask the Scottish Government what support it can provide to families of veterans. (S6O-02143)

I thank all those who signed my motion, which has allowed it to be debated in this global intergenerational week.

Global intergenerational week is in its fourth year, and it now involves 15 countries, including Australia, Sweden, Mexico and the countries of the United Kingdom, including Scotland, of course. The campaign is aimed at inspiring individuals, groups, organisations and local and national Governments to connect people of all ages—especially younger and older generations—to share good practice and take opportunities to come together, to enjoy one another’s company, and to make friendships that cross the age divides. That can be done in the simplest of ways, such as through physical activities, chatting, gardening, baking and the arts. In Scotland, the lead organisation is Generations Working Together.

Some of those activities already happen quite naturally, of course, through grandparenting and interactions with elderly relatives and neighbours. It can be about cuddling into granny or grandad telling a story from a book or simply sharing memories from the past—embellished, of course, at least in my case, for dramatic or romantic effect. That is special, and it gives parents a break. Walking hand in hand in the sunshine, with the young one chattering away and the elder out and about rather than sofa bound, is the stuff of abiding memories.

That can happen in more established settings, such as a care setting, when young ones come in to share simple play and perhaps perform a song or two. In schools, it can involve a lesson in social history—on what it was like to grow up post-war with the remnants of rationing, or in the swinging 60s, when miniskirts were all the fashion and the young rebelled against the older generation. Plus ça change, plus c’est la même chose. It can involve a young person showing someone older how to use Facebook or the mysteries—for some—of the internet. It can be about using emojis in the right place at the right time for the right reason. Remember how David Cameron got caught out with the misuse of “LOL”?

In formal settings, we sometimes miss out by failing to consult and collaborate across the generations. Consider, for example, housing developments that are adaptable to changes as someone moves from single occupancy to family requirements to being elderly and perhaps the sole occupant again, and needing ground-floor living yet being able to remain in the same development. In social housing in the 1950s, there were what used to be known as pensioners houses in mixed developments, so pensioners were part of a mixed community. Developers have also contributed by building schools with integrated community spaces for use by both young and older generations in the evenings and weekends. That happens, but not often enough. It would be a good idea if new-build schools had allotments to be shared by young and old. Perhaps the older generation could share their expertise and the very young could learn that peas taste best stolen from the living pod.

That sharing breaks down barriers—real or perceived—of age divides or stereotypes. The words that we use of the elderly—the “challenge” or “burden” of demographics, people being “privileged to have pensions” and elderly people being “boring” or “selfish”—set the tone. The words that we use of the young—“a challenge”, “privileged”, “selfish” and “boring”—make the point about parallel perceptions.

Youthful exuberance in public places can be interpreted by the elderly as intimidating. I have been there, too. Coming home from a youth fellowship meeting one Sunday evening in winter, a dozen of us were gossiping at a street corner. The next thing, a policeman approached and told us to move along. Being the person I was, even then, I questioned his authority, as we were “not breaking the law, this is a democracy”—and so on. I added that we were the youth fellowship, for goodness’ sake. It transpired that nearby households had reported us because of the noise that we were making. Needless to say, my challenge did not go down well, as the officer escorted me home. Yes: plus ça change.

Age discrimination against the older generation is alive and well, but so is age discrimination against the young. The untrammelled energy of youth can be annoying, but so, too, can the slower pace of the elderly irritate those who are young, when life is in a hurry. Tolerance and understanding is a good prescription.

It is generalising generational behaviour that is at fault. Individual-to-individual interaction can be quite a different matter. That is why one-to-one encounters—personal encounters between the younger and the older generations—can shatter such perceptions and, more than that, enhance respect and understanding.

The minister for older people, Ms Roddick, sat with me on the back benches until recently. She is 25, going on 26, and I am 78, going on 79. More than 50 years separate us and—dreaded thought of thoughts, for her and me—I am old enough to be her grandmother. She helped me when my Surface played up, and she still does so, and I hope that I was of use to her with my experience back here. More important, we also had fun on the back benches, where a degree of naughtiness can go unnoticed, Deputy Presiding Officer. A penchant for mischief can, after all, be delightfully intergenerational.

I regret to say that I have been forbidden to use Twitter by the world at large.

I welcome the concessionary bus fares. How much do those subsidies—indeed, I would call them investments in the services—cost?

When Ariane Burgess mentioned the reintroduction of wolves, I thought that Edward Mountain was going to fall off his chair.

I congratulate Kenneth Gibson on securing this intriguing debate. I say to Edward Mountain that that does not mean that the reintroduction of the lynx is imminent, but it opens up the debate to what I hope will be informed and tolerant discussion.

I will reference the detailed research by the Lynx to Scotland partnership, which sought to assess the social feasibility of the potential reintroduction of lynx to Scotland through consultation with stakeholders and communities in two focal areas—the Cairngorms national park and Argyll. I understand that that work represents the first effort to assess social feasibility, which is of central importance for the proposed reintroduction of a large carnivore that has been absent from Britain for a period of time equivalent to multiple human generations.

I will provide some graphic but relevant information. The lynx is, of course, a pure carnivore. Depending on the region and the availability of prey, it hunts cloven-hoofed animals such as roe deer, as well as young red deer, small mammals such as hares and rabbits, and in rare instances, smaller predators such as foxes are also on the lynx’s menu. It hunts mainly in the evening, when its prey is also active, and its territory is heavily wooded and afforested areas.

When hunting, the lynx is aided by its excellent sensory organs, which enable it to see six times better in the dark than a human, and it is able to spot a rabbit from a distance of 300m. With its finely tuned ears, it can also hear the slightest rustle. It is a stalk-and-ambush hunter that catches its prey just like a cat does. However, I understand that, if a surprise attack fails, the prey is not pursued. It seizes its prey with its front claws and kills it with a bite to the throat.

If a lynx has killed a deer and is not disturbed, it will return to its prey over several nights until it has completely consumed it. A lynx needs to kill about one deer a week, which equates to around 60 animals a year. Therefore, the lynx could—I simply say “could”—provide a natural means of keeping deer numbers down. It could also predate on foxes, which, in turn, predate on ground-nesting birds.

Having been driven to extinction in parts of Europe since the beginning of the 19th century—