On self-effacing behaviour.

I wasn’t sure if I wanted to write this post: I’ve never been a salacious , ambulance chaser type of journalist but there’s something about the tragic loss of Natasha Richardson that made me think about the nature of being English. It’s engrained in us from birth not to make a fuss, to wheel out the stiff upper lip. I can just imagine her brushing off the offers to send her for a check up after her accident. It would have been anathema to her, the idea that a little fall would require special attention. The kind of me, me, me behavior that the English abhor. Especially to an actress whose family conscientiously avoided the spotlight. And it made me think that the peculiarly English form of self-effacing reticence about looking after ourselves when really we should be demanding help is just staggeringly counter-productive.

And my thoughts go out to her family at this time.