"[William Morris] thought he had a wonderful childhood. He just didn't need to force it on the rest of us" - Jonathan Meades.
There is an intrinsic urge in all humans to hark back to the days of childhood. An extended womb to keep us warm where the outside world, harsh, cold and bloody, does not enter to blind our innocent eyes. It is that closed circle that leads to nationalism and protectionism. Turn away the strangers, the interlopers, the squatters, the foreigners that could invade the sunset-tinted memories. They do not belong, they DID not belong in a simpler time, in a simpler mind. Except it wasn't as plain, smooth, straightforward as all that.
The priggish nature of nationalism is the propensity to assume that the rest of us want to return to the days the patriotic heretic wishes upon us. Some of us, myself included, had a great childhood. There are those less fortunate who do not wish to remember or return to theirs.
The problem with this sententious behaviour is the ignorance of not realising the problems of the world were just as great and important back then as now. It wasn't a simpler time. The juvenile mind has matured to understand the complexities of the environment we walk through everyday. The nostrum of turning back the clock, locking all the doors, sealing all the cracks, making sphere impervious to the ideas you don't understand does not work.
Reliving your childhood through the eyes of your own children takes one step back from full frontal time travel. Nostalgia of forgotten TV Shows, battered toys and lost places is a less brutal way to reviving old emotions and the warm comforts of innocence. My nephews are currently trawling through all my old models cars and enjoying them as much as I did back then. Nevermind how bruised, chipped and battered the paintwork is. FREE TOYS!!!!