I realised this weekend that onions don’t make me cry anymore and they haven’t done for years.
Magazines, newspaper columns, Bettaware catalogues all used to be full of magic ways to stop the flow of tears as you chopped. A spoon or a piece of brown bread in your mouth. But now, no matter how or when I chop them, they just don’t make me cry. Is it the onions or is it me?
I fear it’s me. These days I can only cry at things related to children. Lost children, found children, happy children, sad children, abused children, amused children. From birth to babies, tots to teens. Children make my eyes water.
I used to cry at sport. Or ER. Or the theme-tune to West Wing. Or anything to do with Aidan in SATC.
Now it’s just babies and children.
Onions haven’t changed, but they don’t make me like they used to.