Tim Stretton has posted on his blog Acquired Taste www.timstretton.blogspot.com on the subject of reality, and it got me thinking. It seems that for some of us at least, the boundary between truth and reality is fragile, if not occasionally non-existent. We have all heard of people who duff up actors who play nasty characters on TV soaps, but I was amazed to hear on the radio the other day that thousands - yes, thousands - of people write every year to 'Juliet' in Verona to ask for advice with their love lives. A team of voluteers apparently deals with these requests (I'm not sure quite how), and the letters keep on coming.
If people confuse truth with fiction to this extent, how on earth do they conduct their lives without being in a continuous state of unbearable stress? For anyone watching Coronation Street this week (I know, I know. My son has just ticked me off. It's all utter rubbish, but I love it), and taking it seriously, the only solution must surely be to throw him/herself off the nearest bridge.