Where's my Kleenex?

I am crying at Coronation Street. This would be fine if it was, say, the second episode on a Monday evening and I'd had a glass of wine or two and no tea: but the truth is it's 11:30 on a Saturday morning and I am watching Corrie on catch-up. The most intoxicating thing I have had all morning is a cup of instant Kenco and a slither of my flatmate’s homemade Millionaire’s Shortbread that (I admit) I robbed from the fridge.

It’s Gary Windass’ fault. He’s just told Quinny’s parents the horrific story of their son’s heroic attempt to save Gary while on tour in Afghanistan. Gary survived, Quinny did not. Lets be clear: I am crying because a man is telling A DEAD MAN’S PARENTS about how their son was gunned down, in Afghanistan, while SAVING HIS LIFE.

Okay, so the acting isn’t perfect, but it’s okay to cry at that, isn’t it? I only ask because, quite frankly, I cry at everything. In a conversation earlier this week, someone told me that they’ve NEVER CRIED AT A BOOK. Er, hello?! The Lovely Bones? The Time Traveler’s Wife? PS I Love You? One Day?

Before Christmas I was on a coach from London to Bristol reading David Nicholl’s One Day and I was crying so much, so loud, that the man next to me MOVED SEATS. These were guttural, manly sobs. Well, maybe not manly, but definitely guttural. I had to stop reading because I couldn’t see the words through the tears. It was pretty horrific.

“Films I get,” this chap told me, “I get why people cry at films.” Er, yeah: a quick look at my DVD collection just told me that eighteen of them (18!) make me sob. And I mean SOB: buckets. In fact, the only reason I own *any* of them is so I can pop them on when I’m feeling a bit “pent up” and am in dire need of a big old cry. Hello, The Way We Were...



Great. Now I’m crying at Barbra. Again. Well, she did do Yentl. "Papa can you hear me...?" *sob* Does this never end?!

I’m not sure why I am so bothered by this issue, or whether it is even anything to worry about at all, but a separate chat this week also reminded me of Diane Keaton’s epic crying scene in Something’s Gotta Give and ever since I have been plagued by the fear that, well, this is *genuinely* what I am going to end up like. I am completely fucked, aren’t I?