Imagine yourself happily ensconced in seat 1A, strapped into your Business Class seat on a Ukranian Airlines Boeing 737, heading for an interesting holiday in The Ukraine, trundling down the runway, V1, V2, climbing into the empty sky and all is well. Suddenly, BAM, your world explodes around you. If you are lucky you die instantly. If you are not so lucky you have a few agonising moments to contemplate what really happens on the other side. Will there actually be seven vestal virgins waiting to tend to your every need? Or will Gabriel be there, wings flapping, waiting to introduce you to Pete and hopefully his Boss, if he’s not too busy meeting the millions of others who’ve just popped their clogs? Or perhaps there will just be an enormous black void of nothingness. No reunion with Mummy and Daddy, nor even a depressing hook-up with Lucifer.
I make light of something that for those involved, both in the air and on the ground, was and is truly awful. But at least I am being a realist, which increasingly seems to be verboten. I am fat. I am not proud of this fact and hopefully I am not yet obese. I am happy to acknowledge this FACT and I am also happy for friends to encourage me to do something about it. Not in the “hey fatty, have you seen your toes” style, but more “come on Julian, lose a bit of weight, live long and prosper”; more Vulcan than vulgar is good. But apparently I am not allowed to tell my 14 year old son that he is a little plump; nothing too serious, just a little lardy around the middle, but definitely highly undesirable for any teenager and especially one who has aspirations to be a good sportsman. Nor it seems am I even allowed to tell him that he is deeply unfit. Yet again this is a statement of unarguable fact. What ludicrous point have we reached in society, where it is offensive to tell our kith and kin the truth, not with a view to being unkind, but because we love them and want them to live a long and happy life, which we know, from our much greater experience, is less likely to happen if they don’t change their indolent and unhealthy habits? What really worries me is that so many sensible and worldly-wise parents are happy to acknowledge the lunacy of this trend, but few seem prepared to stand up and fight it. I was constantly being told by my much younger producers that “you can’t say that nowadays”. Who says I can’t? How on earth have we as a society allowed ourselves to slide onto this slippery slope with an end that takes us who knows where? Animal Farm, Brave New World, 1984 and I Robot all come to mind.
Because I had been thinking a lot about commentary styles yesterday I wanted to listen to the great Richard Dimbleby’s sonorous tones, which the miracle of You Tube allows you to do. Firstly I watched Churchill’s funeral. It was brilliant and evocative description but it made me wonder what Winnie would say if he could see what the Great Britain he fought to save has become. I then watched the Coronation of our present Queen. Again Dimbleby was on top form and despite being in black and white it was truly awesome in the literal sense of the word. Remembering that this took place sixty six years ago made one realise just what an incredible servant Her Majesty has been to this Country. It brought the actions of the Duke and Duchess of Sussex into even bolder relief. The Duchess (of my County!) jokingly made some reference to trying Britain’s traditional “stiff upper lip”, but found it too difficult. I know I am going to sound like the grumpiest of grumpy old men, but I really do fear for where we are going.
I reckon a walk along the seafront with Callie (the whippet) is the answer. It’s mainly a pebble beach, but there is just enough sand to bury my head in it.
2DtC
ADayInTheStrifeOf 