Maiden Aunts were always interesting. Your parents would pack you off to them, with the parting admonition don’t upset auntie, for a few days during the summer holidays, and you would have a great time – most of which was conducted under censorship administered with a finger to the lips accompanied by whatever you do, don’t tell your Mum. They always sent you a card on your birthday or at Christmas with ‘a little something’ inside, and you always sent them a postcard selected by your parents with a boring view of whatever Godforsaken coastal village you happened to be staying at that year.
Then came adolescence and the personal selection of a saucy holiday postcard about an actress and a bishop, followed by the frosty reception you received from her at the next family gathering months later. Well, if your parents had spoken about her once being an actress and the young admirer whose parents considered her ‘below them’ who became a bishop, you would have known not to send that particular card, wouldn’t you?
In coverage yesterday on Sky during the private meeting of the Royal Family that was taking place on the Sandringham Estate, they trained their cameras on the press pack encamped on what was described as a lozenge of grass outside the entrance. What immediately came to mind was the old adage – if you’re not part of the solution, then you must be part of the problem.
Every grandparent experiences family issues during their lifetime. Solving them requires both common sense and experience plus, at times, simply space. What isn’t needed are acquaintances sniping at the fringes who neither know the full story, nor appreciate the subtle nuances that may be at play. You certainly don’t need them camped on your lawn offering their uninformed opinions! One only needs to read two words – fully-supportive – in the Queen’s official statement from yesterday to recognise just how much this press pack is out of touch with reality.
It is interesting what current affairs stories the BBC is sending in our direction today. The airliner shot down in Iran, the return of Stormont, the turmoil at the Palace, the interminable soap opera that is the Labour Party, and so on.
Two are missing. The first is obvious: why would they want to publicise the fact that a judge decided the glint in Jeremy Vine’s eye from the light of an autocue did not require any particular skill or experience and was certainly not worth paying him seven and a half times more than an equivalent journalist – oh, and the every-so-slightly-connected historic tribunal win for Samira Ahmed? The second is not so obvious, and equates to censorship.