Can there ever have been a more inappropriately named gentleman than England’s Chief Medical Officer, Professor Chris Witty. The man with a slightly distorted face is about as funny as a grizzly with a headache. Just as the country was beginning to think that we could perhaps be about to enjoy a return to some sort of normality he ups and slams on the anchors, assuring parliament that we would risk another deadly spike and tens of thousand more “deaths” if we try to accelerate the very cautious easing of restrictions that he and his fellow experts have recommended. “Recommended” being the operative word. The trouble is it’s beginning to sound as though he is running the Country. I always thought advisers should advise and leaders lead; i.e. make the decisions.
If you listen to Radio 4 early in the morning you will be familiar with a brief slot when they tell you that “on this day in…..” and they then list a number of key historical moments, sometimes dating back centuries. This morning they mentioned that on this day in 1988 Prince Charles narrowly avoided death in an avalanche in Switzerland. It brought memories flooding back. I was skiing in Meribel that day when I heard the news. We were obviously delighted for the Prince but two companions weren’t so lucky. Patti Palmer-Tomkinson, a top skier, was badly injured but survived to tell the tale. Major Hugh Lindsay, the Queen’s Equerry, a 9th/12th Lancer, a truly top bloke and a great friend was killed instantly when a large slab of ice slammed into his head. The Swiss guide Bruno Sprecher had taken them on an off-piste route near Klosters that was in dangerous condition and they should never have been there, although reports afterwards suggested it was Charles who pushed them to go. Hugh had a lovely grace and favour apartment in St James’s Palace where he lived with his gorgeous girl friend of some duration, “Bumps”; you’d know why if you met her!. She was totally and utterly devoted to Hugh; he had that effect on people. He had that rare gift of being able to mix with princes and paupers with equal ease. One moment he would be holding The Queen’s handbag on a formal occasion, the next, playing football in Hyde Park with a group of strangers. It wasn’t unusual for various of the royal princesses to call him for a confidential chat, including the Princess of Wales who later became a great friend to Hugh’s widow, Sarah. Bumps was heartbroken and scarred for a long time when he broke up with her having fallen madly in love with Sarah (whose maiden name I forget), who worked in the Buckingham Palace Press Office. She was seven months pregnant when Hugh died. Diana had attended their wedding, a wonderfully happy occasion. His funeral at Sandhurst, with full military honours and attended by Prince Charles amongst others, was one of the most gut-wrenchingly awful days. Their daughter Alice was born a couple of months later, on 14th May. Coincidentally that’s my birthday too. Prince Charles is her godfather.
Possibly the biggest mistake the Princess of Wales made was her revelatory interview with Martin Bashir. Prince Andrew was generous enough to prove to all what a huge mistake it is to sell your soul to the media, but undaunted, Cringe and Ginge have now done the same. ( I can’t claim originality for that one!) I fear they will live to regret it, or at least Harry will. Whatever happened to the good old-fashioned principles of duty, loyalty and service? The Royal Family most certainly aren’t racist or bigoted, but parts of the media and particularly the tabloid press, clearly are.
Apparently “the whole of America” is shocked that the British Royal Family are racists. How ironic is that from a country that is probably more racist than anywhere else on earth! As a final thought, if I dislike Germans (I’m not saying I do), does that make me racist?
ADayInTheStrifeOf 