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Irony Alert!: This blog may be a tad contrary.

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July 20, 2005



we have a new kitten who is trying to move in with us. Someone owns it, it has a collar, but insists on sitting on our doorstep. Wee boy says 'please', mummy says 'no' but I wonder how much choice we have?

I think you make some good points here about depression. People don't seem to be allowed to be sad any more, even when they've gone through shocking grief. There is a window when the rest of us will listen, then we want them to just get on with it. We can be totally emotional in public about, say, Schapelle, but have a really hard time accepting or friends who may not be as up as we would like them to be.

Is it simply an overt and unsympathetic optimism from the United States, or could it be that we have rediscovered our inner British stiff-upper-lip? Or our inner Nazi? I can't decide.

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