Transmission starts....
Things had not started well. An anxiety dream followed by waking up, having a nose bleed
and banging my head on the bathroom door handle had led to the brewing of a foul mood. Bad news from the bank and shuffling savings into bills added to the sombre mood. Radio 4 spoke of children so badly raped that they themselves would never have children. I had left the house, walked down to the high street and been drag netted by the usual smiley, slightly
bo-ho looking charity raisers. This time something within me gave in. I stood and listened to the
insufferable evil that the everyday decides to impose on the poor in certain areas of Brazil. Frankly this type of charity hard selling irritates me. It is too smiley, too happy, too idealistic,
naive, insert more of the same here...
But then...
The voice that says these things is the very apathy I rant about to others. The very antipathy of why I write this blog. I signed up. As I walked away I turned to see the girl who had sold me the charity smiling to herself. It could have been a quip by a colleague, it could have been the pleasure of the sell, but something deeper glowed from her face....
Transmission ends.....
