My conscience is at me. Big time. My children are turning into cynics at worst and moans at best. Even the seven-year-old is a dab hand at sarcasm, though he probably couldn't spell the word for his life. And it's all my fault. And yours and his and hers . . .

Yes, we're all culpable.

We've become such a nation of politician-bashers, church-bashers and institution-bashers. Let's face it. Nobody escapes.

And it's not just that we do it, it's the way we do it. So righteously. So "we're paying for this so we want it our way", like nobody else is human. It starts first thing in the morning, in the car on the way to school. Radio on - I'm a current affairs addict. Motoring along I hurl insults and caustic remarks back at any interviewee (and interviewer) who would dare to hold views different to mine.

Politicians come in for a very hard time. I've been having a field day, what with Moriarty, Flood and the Committee for Public Accounts. So smug am I, that I even pat myself on the back - after all, my children are absorbing all kinds of knowledge and I eagerly answer any questions they might have.

Hurtling around the supermarket after school, I berate the manager who thought it a good idea to move the milk to the other end of the fridge displays, not to mention the assistant who is completely unaware of where the rice had disappeared to.

Dinners, whether among ourselves or with friends, turn public-figure-bashing into a sport. We are all so knowledgable. Everyone has some new tidbit of information, which we imbibe as pleasurably as our wine. Perish the thought that it might be mere rumour or innuendo.

And somewhere in the background are the children absorbing all this negativity - negativity without an agenda. There is no collective motivation to change things, just to moan about them. We have all become so absorbed in grabbing our share of the Celtic tiger. Parishes and voluntary bodies are finding it impossible to involve people any more, nobody is available, the doors are shut tightly.

Mea culpa.

So I'm trying to change, to find something positive to say. I've been biting my tongue a lot, trying to encourage the children to empathise a lot - and criticise occasionally.