Caring for parents as they age is more of a moral issue in the UK than a legal one. In some places, such as certain American states and countries like the Philippines and Germany, there are laws that make children liable for their parents’ care expenses. Yet with an ageing population and creaking social care system, increasingly, people in the UK are finding themselves caring for their elderly parents. Some say this is only right – the child owes this to their parent – while others say that it puts added pressure on families, and that care is something the state should provide. So, are children responsible for their elderly parents? Janet Street-Porter, Catherine Renton and Simon Kelner share their Perspectives.

Caring for parents as they age is more of a moral issue in the UK than a legal one. In some places, such as certain American states and countries like the Philippines and Germany, there are laws that make children liable for their parents’ care expenses.

Yet with an ageing population and creaking social care system, increasingly, people in the UK are finding themselves caring for their elderly parents. Some say this is only right – the child owes this to their parent – while others say that it puts added pressure on families, and that care is something the state should provide.

So, are children responsible for their elderly parents? Janet Street-Porter, Catherine Renton and Simon Kelner share their Perspectives.

I very often look to The Simpsons to explain the mysteries of the universe, and in their brilliant parody of Mary Poppins, the circular nature of a human’s lifespan is neatly encapsulated. There is a scene in which the children’s governess, Shary Bobbins, says that she is very good at bedtime stories and changing nappies. Quick as a shot, Grandpa Simpson says: “Put me down for one of each.”

I haven’t begun to inhabit the soul of Grandpa Simpson, but there was definitely a point in my recent life when I noticed another staging post on my mortal journey. I stopped worrying so much about my daughter, a responsible, happily married woman in her thirties, and she started worrying about me.

It’s one of the role reversals – she now asks me to text when I get home safely – that mark our passage together through life, but there is no escaping the fact that, for the parent, it’s a rather depressing indication of getting older, becoming less the provider of care, advice and protection and more the recipient.

And so we rage against this change in the balance of power. It’s Ok, I can manage perfectly well, we say irritatedly, when we have no idea what the iCloud is, or how the Firestick on the television works, and we have forgotten our passwords, or even where our glasses are. Yes, it’s a tricky business getting old, but nowhere near as challenging as being young in the world that we have bequeathed.

The next generation must feel that they are inheriting not a future full of promise and opportunity, but a gathering avalanche of threats and catastrophes: global insecurity, climate emergency, economic turmoil, political polarisation and technological disruption; a world in which robots are coming to take all the jobs, a society that is more atomised by the day, individuals riddled with anxiety.

Our children never asked for smartphones and social media to be invented; we handed this to them, and then made out it was their fault when they became hooked. And so, I feel that, with all this going on in her life, the last thing my daughter needs is to have to worry about my welfare.

Of course, there will come a time when I am not able to cope with the physical degredations of age, but right up until that point, I am determined not to be a burden to her. She doesn’t need a running commentary on the aches, the pains and the malfunctions that arrive in my life, unannounced and with increasing regularity. What’s more, now that we have come to terms with the fact that I’m not immortal, I want her to enjoy wholeheartedly the rest of our time together, rather than to be fretful, on alert for a change in my engine noise.

However, as a kind and empathetic person, my daughter is eager to play the role of carer, worrying about what I eat, how much I drink, and whether I’m looking after my physical health. But, as well as railing against her attempts to curtail what I perceive to be fun, I do think she’s got enough to contend with in her own existence without monitoring my lifestyle. Also, I don’t want to deceive my daughter in the way I did to my parents – “I only had a couple of glasses of wine”, “I was in bed by 10pm”, that sort of thing.

It is not that I am a model of altruistic concern. It’s just that I’m not ready to feel old yet, and there is nothing that confirms the ageing process more than the idea that you’re reliant on someone else to attend to your needs. So, as long as I can play a round of golf, or go to football matches, or have a night of sybaritic indulgence, or fill in an online booking form unaided, I am resolute in retaining my independence.

Of course, I want my daughter to care for me, and my welfare to be of interest to her. But I want her to look after her own psychological and physical welfare first and foremost. I’m nowhere near ready to relinquish my own parenting role. As part of a generation that was primarily concerned with satisfying its own consumerist desires, I feel guilty that we have left her a whole host of problems that we never had to worry about. That’s her burden, and I certainly don’t want to add to it. I can cope on my own.

Now, where did I put that bloody remote…

I refuse to burden my daughter in old age – I’ve already left her with problems

I resented caring for my dad – I had to sacrifice my entire life

Grandparents do free childcare then are carted off to a care home. It makes me sick

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