On the telly, the vox pop stuff makes you wince with embarrassment. The frigging BBC always has that and finally I just mute the sound whenever some weeping peasant heaves into view. Even archbishops cannot articulate the issues involved in these events, so what chance is there that some semiliterate peasant can? The Bishop of London gave a robust speech. But he got in a tangle because he was trying to drive home some important point about Jesus. Fine, that’s his job, but it was clumsily done. The prayers (with two new ones by the Archbishop of Canterbury) were the usual hackneyed and mawkish stuff. The mute button again…..
An excellent speech by Prince Harry. If this is an indication of what he and his brother are made of, then things are looking up. And, my God, he’s cute.
The Diana story is a nice cathartic tragedy. There was a lot of sobbing in the streets at the time of the funeral and even yesterday you could still get a bit of a lump in your throat.
Ten years ago the gods granted the Brits their most enjoyable week in centuries. I remember at the time a TV interview with some priest. He was practically wetting his cassock with excitement. His surplus was salty from tears. His church had never been so full and he was loving it.
But this was no mere car crash; this was a multifaceted tale. A cold, heartless, husband. The Other Woman. Ruthless royals. Triple bulimia with complications. Rampant shagging. The Prime Minister of the day. The Archbishop of the day. The Queen. Adultery. Fast cars. Dinners in fancy restaurants. Expensive hairdos. Lovely frocks. Yachts. Engagement rings. Fleet Street. Mob anger. Etc.
By the simple expedient of failing to use a seatbelt whilst traveling at speed, the princess ascended to legendary status in a single night. Her story would always have been big, but now it was absolutely gigantic.
It’s up there with the Princes in the Tower, the beheading of Charles I, Henry VIII’s six wives and (our very own Hollywood star) the Virgin Queen.
Well done Diana.