Author: janus

I'm back......and front - in sunny Sussex-by-the-sea

The spare

One’s children cannot all have the Big Job. Since the cradle the Heir’s siblings have known they would be onlookers in history – although George VI had to step in from the bleachers when his brother succumbed to his flaws. And George was not a classic example of the more extravert, younger upstart – yet another of Fate’s ironies. Perhaps that epithet fits Margaret and Andrew better. And Harry, who clearly wishes to kick over the traces and feels frustrated by his obligations.

To misquote the NT: the royal family is in the world but not of it. But since WWII they have gradually accepted and even sought a more public rõle, to try to keep in step with other changes: the weakening class divisions, global travel, television, the internet, social media……and the cult of celebrity, with their total exposure and lack of privacy. And the Spares have naturally claimed more freedom to roam, attracted more media attention for their trouble and agonised over the ambiguity of it all.

No novelist could have invented Harry’s story. He ticks every psychological and social box and will probably continue to keep us enthralled. It’s what spares do.

 

Left Field

Our favourite pop-star, Jagger Corbyn, is playing into the hands of right-thinking voters. His appearance at Glasto with Messrs Depp, Beckham and Balls (and no doubt many other wannabe undertakers) proves that his ambition far exceeds his judgement. Surrounded by young socialists and some old enough to know better, he gave himself a pat on the back and acquired an image as bizarre as his hero Mick’s. Er one two three four! Yeah!

One of those voices

Entertainment in the ’50s and ’60s was all about sound, not so much about images. The wireless played a leading rõle in family life, with the morning pips reminding us we were already late, the evening news gathering us together at 6 o’clock and favourite programmes on weekdays and at weekends. And in our house the cricket coverage was eagerly awaited, especially the voice of John Arlott.

So it was probably my generation of listeners who first welcomed what is now known as TMS; a sporting institution. Down the years Brian Johnston (sans the ‘e’) and his younger pupils have bemused and amused us every year.

But Henry Blofeld has been a star in the firmament, with erudition and wit we should hardly expect from a mere sport programme. And now he too is going to retire.

Thank you, Bloers!

The dance begins

As ever the meeja think the Brexit talks are a tennis match. Wrong. It’s more like chess. Sacrificing a pawn opens up new possibilities. Remember M Barnier has so many masters to serve, while David Boyo has a clear mandate: to do the best for the UK. While the cynics sneer, he can make concessions and win territory without the serried ranks of Europrats second guessing him. Give it time, friends!

Why didn’t I think of that?

Victor Orban, PM of Hungary, wants secondary schools to be equipped with shooting  ranges – to nurture Olympic champions but also to instill patience and concentration – according that is to the Times.

What a wonderful idea! Forget boxing and the martial arts, let’s get military – and why not throw in a few knife-fighting skills too? Then the public school system will be able to make sure all the potential thugs and terrorists have a proper grounding in murder and can succeed in their chosen professions.

I’m surprised the grand old US of A didn’t think of it first (or did they?). It would make a perfect social fit. I can’t wait for Trump’s tweet.

 

Of frying pans and fires

Here and throughout the blogging world, spleens have been vented, feet stamped, cool lost and superlatives exhausted – at the gross incompetence and ineffable profligacy of a sitting government; and all to the accompaniment of the opposition’s sneering triumphalism laced with preposterous claims of competence and reliability.

Soon the fabled one week in politics will live up to its reputation and prove to be a long time since 8th June. The Queen’s Speech will be agreed by the warring Tories, the opposition will have their jolly bunfight in the House, the negotiations with Brussels will duly begin – and everybody will go away on their hols. Continue reading “Of frying pans and fires”