The riot police stared menacingly as we drove forward, trying to get home. Part of downtown Budapest was sealed off after violent antigovernment protests. But the policemen smiled and made way, signalling their colleagues to do the same, on spotting our two young children. What a contrast with Luton airport, a few hours earlier. There, security officers confiscated the children’s vitamin D drops and skin cream — both prescribed medicines — from our hand luggage, brushing aside our protests. A jar of Frank Cooper’s Oxford marmalade also went, despite its unbroken seal, though a half-eaten pot of hoummos was allowed through. There was no logic and no debating the lack of it.

Our trip opened my eyes to the differences in attitude to children between Britain and elsewhere. Perhaps it is not so surprising that a recent Unicef report ranked Britain and America last out of 21 developed nations in a table of children’s welfare, after taking into account education, health, safety, family and peer relationships, material wealth and other factors. Denmark was ranked the best place for children.

We are all too ready to lecture the new EU member states on what they must do to reach our “civilised” standards, yet there is a lot they could teach us about family values. An everyday politeness — courtesy and respect for elders — that has all but vanished from Britain still thrives in Central and Eastern Europe. The family has retained its central place in society and children are valued above all else. In some ways the whole region, sealed off from the great Western European upheavals of the 1960s, including feminism and lifestyle politics, has been “frozen in time”.

Strangers exchange greetings in lifts, wishing each other good morning or evening and saying goodbye when they leave. Hungarian children greet their elders with the phrase csokolom — short for “I kiss your hand” — which is both archaic and undeniably appealing. Old ladies coo over babies and toddlers, and are always ready with advice that the tot is over/underdressed considering the weather.

Hungarians of all ages give up their seats on public transport to mothers and fathers with children. Tram stops are marked with a pram to show where those travelling with pushchairs should wait to board via the special low steps. There are parks everywhere — three within walking distance of where we live in downtown Budapest, each with a bright, modern playground and bouncy surfaces. No dogs are allowed — they have their own parks, complete with free plastic bags to allow owners to clear up after their pets.

Prams, clothes and babysitters are passed on from mother to mother on semi-permanent loan. It is natural for friends and colleagues to rally round and help in any way they can. “This is a family-centred society,” says

Dora Szallai, the mother of a four-year-old and a new baby. “Strangers will stop and talk to you on the street, say how nice your baby is and tell you about their own children. When I was pregnant I had so much help all the time — everyone let me go first in shops and on public transport. There was always someone to give me a hand with the baby carriage.”

The Royal Academy in Piccadilly could learn a lot from the Hungarian riot police. Our children Hannah and Danny, aged 1 and almost 3, may not appreciate the finer points of art but they like compositions and colours, so when I had a business appointment in London my wife Kati and her mother Zsu-zsa decided, naively, to take them along to a Modigliani exhibition. The children were well-behaved but chattered. A surly middle-aged man demanded that Kati keep them quiet — easier said than done, and anyway, why should she? — and proceeded to call her a bitch. The exhibition rooms are quite small and the Academy’s security guards heard and watched the entire exchange. Not one of them said a word.

In Britain, it seems,children should still be “seen and not heard”. Anna Brown, who lives in North London and has two very young daughters, agrees she would not take her girls to an art exhibition: “You can only go in on the proviso that they shut up and don’t make nasty smells. It would be too stressful. In Britain we expect children to grow up too quickly — on the Continent they are much more relaxed.”

In other European countries children are given more free rein yet behave better. The long Sunday family lunch, where three generations spend the afternoon eating, drinking and chatting, is an institution in Greece, Italy and many other European countries.

In Hungary, parents and grandparents often move house to be near to one another. Grandparents are happy to bring cooked food and meals for their Grandchildren if the parents are working. “Families are used to living together here, and used to handling children. It’s passed on from one generation to another,” says Dora Szallai. “When my husband was away at the end of my pregnancy, the neighbours all offered to take me to hospital if I went into labour, and to help with the shopping.”

When we got off the plane at Budapest airport, Kati took Danny to the toilet. Two British women were already waiting. In Hungary it is automatic for mothers with children to go first, but the women spluttered indignantly when Kati and Danny headed for the cubicle. “There’s a queue, you know,” one of the women barked.

Not here, dear.

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