To say the news that more than 50% of the Britons surveyed couldn’t locate the human heart made my own lump of cardiac muscle sink is an understatement. For God’s sake people, what hope do we have as a species, let alone a sentient one rich with art and literature, if we can’t even deal with such basics?
According to the Beeb, a team at King’s College London found that less than a third of the same group could locate their lungs – their lungs! All you have to do in breathe in and it’s pretty damn obvious where those babies are kept. I hope the 700 people surveyed were some kind of aberration, but I know that’s some damn wishful thinking.
If I ever have a heart attack or similar emergency I hope someone from the right 50% of the population is there to help me. Seriously, if you want to know more about the muscle that keeps us all ticking along, check out the bhf site and donate if you can.
When I’m sitting and imagining the reader for any particular piece of fiction I churn out, I automatically assume they have some very basic knowledge in common with me. I guess that’s something I should take stock of in light of this depressing revelation.