Jayne Dowle: Snapshot of life will put future generations in picture

Actually, I am beginning to wonder if I am the only person in the UK who doesn’t mind doing it. I am looking forward to sitting down to record who lives in my house at a certain point in time, on the night of March 27, 2011.

I feel as if I am contributing just a tiny little bit to the sweeping history of the nation. When future generations come to look at what 2011 was all about, when my descendents are curious about what their great-great-whatever grandparents were doing a hundred years ago, it will all be there for them.

Family historians suggest that before sending off your census form you should photocopy it and keep it with your important documents, so your grandchildren won’t have to wait for the details to be officially released.

But I suppose finding a photocopier will be just another burden for some people. What is it that vexes them so about the operation? Granted, it is costing a lot of money, money that perhaps could be spent on improving public services, providing health care etc. And when we learn that the company charged with carrying out the process is American arms manufacturer Lockheed Martin, which has subcontracted it out to UK Data Capture, whose shareholders include Edexcel, not known for its efficiency over exam results, it is right to be cynical. But surely, any government needs information to go on when making decisions about future investment, and one of the major aims of the census is to establish hard statistical evidence about who lives where and what their needs might be. That said, I admit that some of the questions are a bit woolly.

One person’s “My health is fair” is going to be different from another individual’s response, and it will depend on whether you have a cold on March 27. But no more woolly than David Cameron’s proposed “happiness index”, and very in keeping with current academic thinking about we measure our state of being without relying entirely on economic data.

And aren’t the slightly odd questions the ones that will make the census interesting? My favourite is the query about what type of central heating you have, although I am disappointed to note that there isn’t a box to tick which says “very expensive”.

You would think that these kind of questions would be the ones that people would enjoy answering. After all, I bet most of the complainers don’t think twice before revealing their favourite colour, name of their first pet and their mother’s maiden name when all they are doing is setting up an online account to buy a new handbag. You don’t hear them complaining then, do you? No, because they are getting a reward at the end of it. Have we become so obsessed with instant gratification that we can’t be bothered to do anything unless there is something in it for us?

Perhaps the National Statistician should have offered a prize draw.

And all that whingeing about the invasion of privacy? You’re naïve if you don’t accept that Big Brother already knows more about you than you could ever imagine. When pretty much our every move is monitored by CCTV, when the internet knows exactly where you are at any given moment and sends you “useful” pop-ups for local restaurants?

Every time you go into hospital you’re expected to reveal your religion (voluntary on the census) and weigh up whether having a Scottish surname – as my children do – makes you Anglo Scottish or just plain Anglo. Well, I just can’t see the point of that privacy argument. If you have ever had to fill in a form for Child Tax Credits, you won’t baulk at being asked if you are actually married to the man you call your husband.

It’s not even as if the answers you give are going to directly impact on your financial well-being. No-one is going to come knocking on your door asking for money because of something you said in your census form, but make a mistake on your annual tax return, which is far more intrusive and time-consuming than any census, and you could find yourself in very big trouble indeed.

So, when I pick up my pen on the night of March 27, I am going to be putting my trust in the powers-that-be to use my information confidentially and to the best purpose. I’m doing my bit. But I hope, too, that the Government does its bit, and in a year’s time, I’m not writing a column about the day a civil servant left his laptop on a train and everyone in Basingstoke found out the shock news that I have gas central heating.