Nothing (much) To Report

I'm just beginning to realise that I'm more of a freak than I always thought I was. Not to look at…. no, that's plainly false for a start. It seems a fat girl wearing a hat in hot weather is a particularly unusual and disturbing start around these parts. And frankly, who can blame the chavs of Linden not to gape at such a spectacle. I would’ve, if I was brave enough to look at myself in a mirror. I digress from the actual thoughts that had collected themselves in a nice neat orderly queue, for once.

The reason for feeling especially freaksome today is due in part to recent events. For the first time ever, I voiced something which has long bothered me, and I received a more or less “you are heartless!” look for it: I’ve never quite understood why people feel the need to place flowers near the site of someone’s demise. Be it a car accident or bomb blast, or for a dramatic example, outside Kensington Palace after Diana’s death.

I fully understand humanity's need to grieve but why do people need to display a public show of sympathy in this way? Is it simply a cultural thing? It is more polite than openly crying; I suppose our society isn’t comfortable with seeing strangers wailing about the tragic loss of life of someone they would have never have met, or indeed, a greatly-missed loved one.

And condolences books, why? Who are these books to be read by? The living of future generations, to see that we were all very upset by what happened, and that we wish we could somehow make it all go away?

Is it simply a contemporary show of support for our fellow human sufferings, to show those around us that we do care, that we wish we could do something more than make somewhat feeble and unremarkable offerings of sorrow? Which is exactly how I feel towards all the victims of the London bombs: feeble, pathetically sorry and helpless. I don’t believe that signing a book or buying some flowers to rot quietly on a pavement somewhere will change the way I feel. Perhaps it does help others and that’s exactly why they do it.

Maybe I’m completely missing the part of the brain that understands these things.

I think it’s a part that is closely connected to the area that causes women to get very excitable about shoes.