You can bank on it.

I followed the tradition of my family. That was the way.

In previous generations and by that I mean way back in history it was always the case.

In Medieval times the eldest son usually inherited what comprised the estate, be it expansive lands and a Manor House or just a hovel and a shrivelled up carrot. In other periods it was more of a situation where the family profession or vocation was perpetuated by the senior male offspring such as in the military, in the running of a business or in general trade and commerce.

The law of succession applied and many a dynasty and prolonged family tree developed. My Father followed his own into the world of banking and by doing so linked the Bank of East Africa in Liberia to branches of Lloyds Bank in the home country. I may have taken this route but to be honest I was terrible at maths, but then again with the benefit of hindsight the whole financial mess of the credit crisis was exacerbated by a pretty poor understanding of simple mathematics by others.

The world was also a very different place by my early years from the 1960's with the prospect of just having one job for the whole of your working life becoming increasingly rare. Many of my peers in the 1970's by the time of leaving school simply expected to follow their fathers and grandfathers into the largest regional employment in the Steel Industry, in deep sea fishing, heavy engineering and manufacturing but within less than a decade those forms of work were under threat and rapidly evaporating. I have not as yet heard of successive generations in, for example, the Call Centre sector but just give it a few more years and it will be pretty much the norm.

So what was the extent of the family tradition left for me to follow?

Well, it was the Cub Scouts and later, the Scouts and Venture Scouts. It was a natural progression having been enthused by the stories and antics of my father and Uncle David in their own times in the movement in the post war period. A treasured possession of my father, kept locked up in a hefty hasp lockable suitcase was his collection of scouting souvenirs and memorabilia. This included his whittled woggle, a string tied bunting of felt flags and emblems from the Jamborees and other gatherings across the UK and in Europe and accumulated merit badges in all of the most useful and practical subjects of woodcraft, campcraft and good citizenship. There were also a few grainy black and white photographs, self processed and developed of figures in floppy shorts, matching shirts, coloured neckerchiefs and large broad brimmed park ranger style hats which tied under the chin.

I became part of the Scouting fraternity happily and willingly and indeed my progression to Chief Scouts Award represents something that I actually managed to persevere in to proper conclusion. There were of course other organisations and causes for a young lad to follow. A few of my friends joined up with the St John's Ambulance Corps, The Boy's Brigade, Army and Navy Cadets, Salvation Army or local clubs such as Martial Arts, Bellringing, Brass Band practice, the Youth Club or more exotic activities including horseriding and rowing.

The town that I lived in at the time would undergo the usual migration of its population at the equivalent of its rush hour or going to and leaving school premises with, in between the movement of housewives (an occupation of that period) and tradespeople going about their business. The streets would then experience a bit of a lull from tea time to early evening now retrospectively seen as a golden time for families with a meal around a table and much communion and communication of the days events.

However, by 6.30pm the town would be on the move again as parents took their offspring to the venues of their respective activities and pursuits. I went on my bike to the Scout Hut and would see carloads of kids clad in their Judo whites, St John's thick and itchy woollen jumpers, combat fatigues, Oxford Bag trousers or tie dye wear making their way across town. It seemed as though the whole population were on the move. Then another quiet period until congestion again at picking up time.

As a parent myself with my own children from the 1990's I forever seemed to be in the car and up and down the road to Ballet Lessons, School activities, Brownies and Football practice.

I look upon those times now that the children are all grown up and making their own way in the world with great fondness, There is also a particular comfort and satisfaction  in the knowledge that the traditions remain strong and vibrant and hopefully secure for future generations.