‘HUG’ dictionary definition – ‘clasp tightly in the arms, an expression of affection, friendship, appreciation’.
A touchy subject this week. Are you a hugger? The social hug is now, officially, ‘a thing’. I’m in a restaurant waiting for friends, diverting myself by people-watching and assessing how they greet each other. It’s like a rugby scrum, with shrieks of delight, a gathering up of each other like a bundle of washing, a collision of bosoms and grazing of faces, being careful not to erase the hugee’s carefully applied blusher. And that’s just the women.
The men of the company wrap their arms around each other and looking into the middle distance in opposite directions, pummel each other on the back with a balled fist. These days we’re much more tactile. One might say ‘all-embracing’.
It’s a funny old world. Just as we’re becoming more informal and relaxed in our body language, the tabloids are reporting inappropriate, unwelcome touching – and worse. Codes of behaviour are devised for the workplace and an embargo put on sexist language and ‘invasion of personal space’.
There have always been creepy individuals who’ll take advantage and pull rank if challenged, or protest “it was just fun.” There are people too whose mindset is an offence waiting to be taken and go rigid as an ironing board if you lay a finger on them. Who knows what has made them so emotionally constipated?
We’re warm-blooded creatures gifted with emotions. From the animal kingdom upwards, everyone acknowledges the benefit of touch. Babies, animal or human who are cuddled and held close, thrive better than those who are not. In fear, grief, joy or affection we reach for each other. Physical closeness fosters a sense of security and the reassurance of not being alone.
Years ago, as part of a nursery education course, a group of us visited a home for orphaned or abandoned children. The little ones besieged us, tugging at our hands to come and play. Toddlers in their cots stood up, arms raised, hoping to be lifted. We were a party of case-hardened primary-school teachers, who left much chastened – most of us in tears. I’ve never forgotten it.
I remember too the bleak black-and-white television image of a very young Prince Charles, delivered to Gordonstoun school where he was to board miserably for six years – and his father bidding him goodbye with a sterile handshake. Reared in a less demonstrative era, I don’t recall extravagant shows of affection. Unlike now, parents thought it unwise to give children exaggerated notions of their self-worth, since the world would soon disillusion them.
Come puberty, it’s all change. Adolescents squirm with embarrassment if their parents manifest any sign of affection towards them. By this age they’re getting hugs from other sources – probably their first crush. Of the later ‘laying on of hands’ in dance-halls and cinemas I’ll say little except there were some chancers around in my day, adept at attempting to invade one’s personal space.
I was singularly blessed in gaining a mother-in-law who was lavish in her affections and enfolded me in hugs, sometimes for no reason at all. Her son, the Loving Spouse inherited her best qualities. As for our baby – I practically asphyxiated the child with loving cuddles – the warm weight of her, the perfection of her skin, the inherited blueness of her father’s eyes.
He was equally besotted. He couldn't put her down, and as she grew she became and remained ‘Daddy’s girl’ forever after.
The elderly and alone miss the benison of touch. A hand held, a supportive arm around by medical staff or paid carers may be their only physical human contact. I look back on the compulsory childhood ordeal of hugging ancient and whiskery great-aunts and uncles – though I did enjoy the half-crowns bestowed as a reward.
In an uncertain world with so much to be apprehensive about, we’ve come far from the buttoned-up restraint of our forebears. Yes, it may all look a bit ‘luvvie’ and insincere, but in triumph or tragedy, crisis or celebration – trust, empathy and comfort can all be conveyed with a hug.
