WHAT is the self-indulgent nonsense that possesses people to film themselves crying on social media?
Maisie Smith, actress and all-round talented egg, posted a TikTok of herself on Tuesday with tears running down her cheeks, set to music and a cryptic caption.
What I can’t comprehend is why people feel the need to show they are capable of crying[/caption]
She ensured it was a close-up, so we could actually see the very real tears rolling down her face. Very dramatic.
Without a moment’s hesitation, her caring fans flooded her social media platform with comments of concern for her welfare, worrying that her relationship with Max George might have come to a sticky end.
Now, Maisie’s not the first sleb to engage in this kind of attention-seeking nonsense and I doubt she’ll be the last.
What I can’t comprehend is why people feel the need to show they are capable of crying.
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I’m not a big crier myself. Having said that, I might find myself crying at an advert on telly.
I certainly can’t imagine reaching for my phone mid-personal drama to ensure I captured my tearful moment for people to see.
Surely, sadness, mourning, personal trauma or grieving is something private – not something you milk?
To do what Maisie did, which was to accompany her tears with a cryptic message and dramatic music which had everyone tearing their hair out with concern for her, fraught with anxiety – and then in a subsequent post to be pictured snogging the face off her boyfriend as if nothing had happened at all, is insulting.
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It also exploits the loyalty and goodwill of her fans, who clearly care deeply about her.
It has a whiff of the boy who cried wolf about it.
A nice idea- if we had options
MY nearest “local” city is Oxford. I use the term “local” but it’s half an hour away by car.
Longer by train. Impossible by bus. Expensive by taxi.
For most of us living semi-rurally, public transport is pretty much non-existent[/caption]
The County Council plans to introduce permits next month for people who wish to drive through the city which will be policed by ANPR cameras.
Each household will be given permits for 100 days a year. It’s purportedly designed to “cut local traffic and improve public transport timings”. Hahaha. Public transport timings? What are they then?
For most of us living semi-rurally, public transport is pretty much non-existent.
And if you get caught without a permit while driving, you’ll be slapped with a £70 fine.
I understand the underlying motivation will doubtless be environmental, too. Lovely idea.
I rarely rely on trains, because I can rarely rely on them. The system often makes trips tricky and unpredictable. I grew up in a country where trains and buses ran in conjunction with each other and if a bus was as much as a minute late, the Swedes felt inclined to start a revolution. So, granted – I was spoiled.
The introduction of schemes such as the one the council plans to implement in the city may be worthy and well-intended but they fundamentally depend on the existence of a decent public transport system in order to persuade people to get out of their cars and on to the trains and buses.
As long as that doesn’t exist, then commuters and shoppers are scuppered.
One critic said of the scheme that it’s “based on the meaningless administrative borders of the city of Oxford rather than distance or need”.
In my opinion it has #CashCow written all over it.
No ‘use by’ dates cuts my waste
MANY supermarkets have now stopped putting “use by” dates on many items such as vegetables and other perishables.
I know this is as dull as dishwater to discuss but it’s made a profound difference to how much food I waste.
I work with cooking a lot so I’m no food-virgin. But as a young child, there was very little food in my dad’s flat and what there was had invariably “gone off”.
I would eat what I could find and – without exaggeration – would have food poisoning or an upset tummy once a month or every six weeks or so.
The fridge was either bare or had scraps of things that would make me ill.
Fast forward 45 years to me as an adult: I have always kept a full fridge and been over-cautious when it comes to food that may have reached the end of its life.
That’s why I had husbands. They were my waste-disposals and would eat more or less anything.
This suited me and my conscience.
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But with most of the Ungratefuls having left home and no bloke around for me to endanger with expired goods, I’m now forcing myself to be braver when facing food that’s given up the ghost and actually using the common sense that has always resided deep inside my blonde head.
Less food is wasted and my qualms have been quelled.