I think it is puerile.
Poorly written, barely researched.
To proclaim on any subject here or in the pub, supermarket, etc., I don't feel the need to look into the facts terribly carefully. I am open to correction, I will go check up if someone points out I am talking shite.
Journalism, however, should be about gathering at least some facts before delivering a verdict.
Hiding behind second person to sound less of an arse is a pathetic ploy. The writer should have the guts to stand by her opinion, and write it as she sees it, Daily Mail style.
It is quite clear such ad-hoc memorials are the produce of a collective grief, group empathy. Perhaps some of the friends of the lost are involved, but this is more than that. A group in society who are aware of each other, and understand the significance of another death amongst them are making a statement.
The writer is touched by James Corden's twee offerings on romance. Perhaps she might in future find somewhere softer in her heart for something much more significant than that tubby lad's musings.
People are dying. Journalists, actors, comedians. People.
There is a lot that could be done, we as a society do not leave to chance what we can change to limit risk. The writer might equally have remarked on why the railings are there next to the zebra crossing; why the traffic lights are there at a junction, why the underpass and overpass are there for pedestrians to cross the motorway.
After all, all these things are not required in a world where we could merely accept 'fate'. We could merely fold our arms and remark,"Well, you take a chance crossing a motorway, these things happen."
Why not celebrate the forming of a community amongst cyclists, somewhat the reverse of the normal trend in society these days?
I wonder what the writer was doing after Diana died.
Cynical as I am, I doubt she was averse to the odd box of Kleenex that week.
I was cycling through crowds of 'mourners' streaming out of Queensway tube, cleaning the shops out of flowers to add to the ad-hoc memorial to someone none of them knew, who died taking a 'chance', a 'risk' and shit happened.
I was on my way to work, which involved seeing people dying slow, often miserable deaths; some who then passed from this place with nothing as much as a painted bicycle to remember them, let alone a festering folly of flowers.
There is lazy journalism, and then there is offensive tripe dressed as such.