that little Maddie McCann has gone missing and no one seems to know where she is.
I'm sure her family - and especially her mother - are drowning in grief. Few of us can even imagine how hideous things are for them at the moment.
Well actually - there are quite a lot of people who probably have some idea.
The national mission persons charity revealed that since Maddie was taken some 450 people have also vanished.
It doesn't matter that these people might not be so beautiful and unblemished as Maddie, nor does it matter that they are older. What matters is that up and down the country there are hundreds of families suffering the agony of not knowing where their folk are or if they are safe and well.
And that's a tiny heap of misery measured against all the awful rape, murder and abuse around the world.
It's probably a good thing that so many people - millions apparently - want to help get Maddie back. But let's not forget about the others - can we find a way of using that powerful emotion to help them too?
Friday, 18 May 2007
Sunday, 6 May 2007
I've been having a bit of trouble with gay people lately.
Many of my favourite people are gay. I really don't have a problem with the fact you fancy people of the same gender. That's not it. My problem is that I don't always know who's gay and who's not. And it's not because I'm on the pull - I'm happily married to my husband who's a bloke.
Hurray to the lady who introduced her wife - then I knew. Please take note. And in the spirit of equality heteros should do it too. Otherwise it can be ever so confusing and vague.
The crux of the problem is 'partner' it's a truely pants way to talk about someone you're crazy about. Let's leave it for proper technical partnerships like Cagney and Lacey and Marks and Spencer.
And while we're about it, civil partnership is a pretty utilitarian way to describe a day when dreams come true.
I'd like to appeal for the return of the stiff upper lip. Yes, it's probably a bit old fashioned and maybe even repressed. Maybe someone could tell me how that's a bad thing.
Everywhere you turn people are blubbing, sobbing, wailing, weeping - snot and tears all over the place. You could argue that the people on Big Brother don't know better, but, really, enough.
Any Dream Will Do. Stop it. It's supposed to be pantomime - no one howls when the wicked stepmother gets booed.
It's probably true that bottling it up isn't good for you - that supressing your feelings could turn you loopy. But if the mascara streams and the faces go all blotchy at the slightest sign of any emotion then what's left in the pot for the real misery?
And in any case I fear this might be the tip of the iceberg. Think about it, at one point emotions were for home alone and private along with nose picking, belching, farting and wanking.
So if sobbing is out of the closet, how long before the rest follow?