She’s done something terrific, Caitlin Moran – well, with a few other high-profile people. The campaign #helpiscoming is raising money for Save the Children. That’s fantastic.
Ms Moran mentions, in her column in today’s Times magazine (behind a paywall, sorry), that well-meaning people are sending the wrong stuff to refugee camps.
Money is good and effective, I know.
But, hang on …
I’ve met people over the last few weeks who are spending every waking moment – and the waking moments are getting longer and longer – doing the best they can, practically, for the refugee crisis.
Sorting piles of women’s and children’s clothes and high heels out from well-meaning Calais donations. Packing individual bags and boxes with the right food, the right toiletries and cleaning materials.
Heeding what the people on the ground want.
And many brave souls are going – on an organised basis – to the Jungle to help clean up.
Surplus clothes, pillows, duvets, etc, are going to homeless charities.
Inappropriate food is going to food banks.
While delivering several supermarket packs of baked beans and pork sausages (donated, amongst boxes of rice and other needed supplies, by Tesco) to our local foodbank, I accidentally strayed into a consultation. A sad, crumpled man, resorting to charity, to feed himself and his family. I felt ashamed to be there, an intruder on his humiliation.
So there we have it.
A worldwide crisis of refugees, fleeing war, terror, or just plain poverty, incidentally helping the homeless and hungry in the UK.
Does it matter what place in the wealthiest nations we occupy? I can’t be bothered looking it up.
It’s a crying shame. And now we’re all becoming so used to it, it’s not remarkable.
Well, actually, it is.