ONCE upon a time, not so long ago, parents would take their children out on a very British ritual - a picnic.
They would drive along the new, open tarmac roads that cut their way through the heart of the countryside until they spotted a nice grassy spot. They would pull over, park the car and clamber up the short hill to a comfortable, sunblessed patch with an enviable view across rolling fields.
They would lay out their rug and unpack the hamper containing the obligatory boiled eggs, chicken drumsticks and ever-so-slightly warm cheeseand-pickle sandwiches Then the government started showing adverts warning families, excited by the novelty of the new M1, that the …