I caught a bit of that show "Secret Millionaire" at work yesterday. You know, the one where the millionaire goes incognito into situations where people are working for no reward just to help others and then gives a wad of cash to the most deserving of them. It's a really moving programme, if you can ignore the Victorian political subtext. The millionaires (it's a different one each week) turn out to be surprisingly warm, deep human beings--though as Sheldon said, they'd have to be anyway to be attracted to the idea of doing such a show.
The real heroes, however, are the volunteer/ charity workers. The last time I saw the show, a few weeks ago, the millionaire was volunteering to work with children in a desperately deprived area of (I think it was) Manchester. This time it was with homeless people in London. And the workers he found immersed in the struggles of these poor sods were giving their time, mostly for nothing, in circumstances that must be pretty dangerous or at least emotionally harrowing, just so they could give a hand-up to somebody who really needed it. That's all. There was no profit for them, no glory, just the knowledge that they were doing what was needed, where it was needed. And to a (wo)man they looked much too humble to take any pride in it either.
What a pathetic and useless ego trip this blog seems to be by comparison.
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