New York V

Apologies - it's been a while, I know. But with the election over, and spending all my time on touristy activities in New York, it has been really hard to think of things worth writing about.

Some of the less touristy things I have been up to include raking up the leaves of a Quaker cemetery in Brooklyn, accompanying someone to a walk in clinic (she had tonsillitis), going to Whole Foods Market nearly every day, mainly to stock up on Dorset cereals, watching every Arsenal match and attempting to get into running (but have now hurt my knee and given up I'm afraid).

Mostly I don't feel like writing about New York because I reckon most of you know the city better than I do, so there doesn't seem much point. It's wonderful here, but occasionally there are things that get me down.

One in particular. Changing trains on the subway I saw a young man, about my age, begging. There are a lot of beggars on the subway (more than in London) but this guy was even more tragic than the rest of them. He held a sign, strung over his upper arms with string, and resting on his chest. It said, essentially, "I lost my arms in an accident and am trying to collect money in order to get prosthetic limbs".

The sheer barbarity of such a rich country being unwilling to collectively provide for this man to get new arms - to enable him to work! - was one thing that freaked me out. But the other was that I averted my eyes and jumped on my train. It was only once I had sat down that I realised my heart was racing. And that I should have stopped, spoken to him and given him some money. (If I were a half way committed journalist or blogger - I would also have taken a photo of his sign). Being so constantly assailed (and it's the same in London) I avoid even thinking about these things until it's too late to do anything. For this I am ashamed, and am trying to do differently until I leave.