Horrid

A horrible day, filled with rain, terrible rows, heaps of ill-feeling, broken hearts and mud-slinging, which I can't really get into. Suffice to say, Nathan rode in on a white horse and saved the day. 

I have been reminded, almost constantly today, of the Requiem gravestone quote, "be kind for everyone you meet  is fighting a hard battle."

We returned from central London on the tube and encountered a pissed Irish bloke; a hopeless man who smelt overwhelmingly of booze and fags. His smell made me retch and as he spoke - to anyone who'd basically listen - the carriage filled with hideous alcohol fumes. 

A little girl, travelling on her own from school, caught his eye, and inevitably, the pissed Irish man started to talk to her. She was obviously very well brought up, and smiled sweetly at him, but at the next stop, got off the train, and ran, terrified into the next carriage. It was all very sad. The Irish man was obviously just being friendly, Irish and pissed, but he was weird, and she was truly frightened. I have never seen a child being frightened before, and I never want to again. 

I returned home and went to the post office, and there found a little old lady, who instead of queuing, had decided to sit, undignified, on a pile of delivery cardboard boxes in the corner. The poor woman couldn't get up. She struggled for a while, before announcing to the room, "I can't get up. I'm really sorry, I can't get up. Can someone help me?"As we rushed to her aid, my heart broke rather perfectly in two.