Blubbing for Britain

I cry very easily. I cry at sad stuff, at heart-warming stuff, at happy stuff. I choke up. I can hardly speak.

Take today. I found a wallet in the supermarket car park as I was on my way inside to do my "big shop". I waited at the Customer Service desk for an assistant to be free. She looked inside and found a name. It took her a while to register that it was the name of an employee (there are hundreds of them, it's a huge store) but they couldn't find him. I went off to do some shopping, but a vew minutes later they called my name over the tannoy.

They'd located him, and there was this young disabled man who walks with the aid of crutches. He hadn't even known his wallet was missing. He thanked me, but I was the one who was grateful. Grateful he hadn't been distresseed, glad he hadn't been deprived of his valuables. I could hardly speak 'cos I would have given my emotional state away.

I went for years without crying at all. I wonder why I didn't then, and I do now.