A Rich Tapestry

… or an oily rag, fit for disposal?

A while ago I stopped to consider the sparsity of 'hits' that my posts might attract. I know that I tend towards verbose- not always a good thing in these busy-busy times- and that I remain a relative 'nobody,' so why expect more? Which I really didn't.

But, then I paused to further consider the many sites that I routinely visit, a few of them clearly attracting far greater footfall, but most perhaps not, yet all with something to report which I'd considered worthy of a read. You see, the thing about many of these sites- just a few linked via my blog- is that the vast majority of them tend to widen the national and international debate; that is to say that, often, they consider issues which 'our media' have either 'chosen' to ignore, misrepresent, or have simply attempted to bury. And invariably, it seems to me blatantly wrong to ignore/accept this approach.

So, then I duly reconsidered my own contributions, yet, all the while recognising my tendencies to prattle on, and to have a politicised view upon so many things. In conclusion I thought I'd tail it back a bit! But then life goes on to bite one in the posterior yet again, upon which one absolutely has to respond!

So, t'other day caught us watching ITV! Thank the Lord that there were no witnesses. Our excuse being that ITV have commandeered the Tour de France coverage. This in itself is actually a very good thing, if you pre-record and fast-forward all the gunky commercials. It might otherwise have gone to parasitic Sky, thus further depleting the UK's already sparse sports coverage- care of Jeremy Hunt (JC) et al! At this juncture, we could reflect upon recent government assault upon The BBC, and whether we expect this to enhance our TV access or to impinge upon the same. We could consider the vastly increased volume of commercials to which your viewing-hungry child may consequently be exposed. We could, but we shan't.

After The Tour stage completion, we simply stopped watching but entirely foolishly permitted the TV to drone on in the background, washing our subconsciouses with all manner of drivel. That is, until the 'News' happened to refocus our attention. Two items stood out, I think in succession but cannot be sure upon this latter point.

The first item involved Kleyo De Abreu, a young student who tragically struck an adjacent bridge whilst bungee jumping in Lanjaron, Granada, Spain. The second item concerned an incident closer to home, at an industrial estate in Norwich, where two men were sadly killed in an explosion.

Neither of these incidents were new to me; I'd gleaned details about both from earlier reports. And here's the thing, in each of the earlier reports a close relative had been interviewed by news teams. A father and a brother had both naturally expressed great sadness at the loss of a loved relative, a daughter in the former report, and a brother in the latter. Both father and brother presented with dignity, whilst being understandably saddened by these awful events. Each was quietly trying to somehow to comprehend the tragedy.

Which rather begs the question, why it was that these victims of cruel circumstance were to be so shoddily treated by (on this occasion) the ITV News Teams. During the evening reports both victims were seen to be insensitively badgered until the requisite tears were duly extracted. Thereupon, the camera man-or-woman zoomed in to concentrate the viewer's gaze upon the grief-laden faces. Whereupon tears could be witnessed to fall, the (online gaming) viewer judged perhaps incapable of otherwise imagining the grief! Job done, swiftly onto something else!

Aspirations! As a news team, ideally these might be to expose rampant corruption or injustice, to draw the viewer's attention to the most pressing of national and international concern, to ensure that democratic ideals are always upheld- clearly failing on this point- to highlight humankind's greatest achievements. There is a wide array from which to choose.

Or they might be, to focus upon the bullied face of grief, that we might catch the cameraman's drooling reflection in a single perfect crystal tear. I give you art, Mr Damien Hirst.