Cutting onions earlier and my eyes are streaming. I really like onions though so I put up with this quite a bit. I’m making a curry for my dinner as Louise is out so I get the run of the kitchen and can make things the way I like them.
So I’m standing there, eyes streaming and stinging, when I realise that it’s been ages since I’ve had a good greet (scots slang for cry) and I decide that I might just watch The Shawsank Redemption.
I’ve long since come to terms with the fact that it doesn’t take much to make me cry. I’m not talking episodes of huge sobbing wails, but I do fill up quite easily.
My earliest memory of this happening was when I was watching Lassie on a Saturday morning, sitting in my Grans front room. Since then I’ll readily fill up, lump in the throat and all that, at… well mostly anything.
In fact, it’s only now as I write this post that I realise that I missed out on my annual sobfest at Christmas. George and Clarence were nowhere to be seen, yet the ring of a bell did put them in mind (it seems quite a few angels were around this Christmas time after all). Yes, if there is a film guaranteed to fill me up and, yes I’ll admit, actually bring me to tears and soft hiccuping and choked back sobs then it’s A Wonderful Life.
How easily my emotions are manipulated, how readily I give them up and how deeply empathetic I must be.
And you know what, I don’t care one jot.
I’m am unashamed.
I cry, and that fact actually makes me a little happy.