It was about 6.30 in the morning the day after we had done a long drive back from hospital. Anna was five years old, Robbie just two and both were wide awake and had got me out of bed. I took them downstairs to plonk them in front of the TV to try and buy myself some time.
I switched the TV on and didn’t turn it off for the rest of the day. Princess Diana had been killed in a car crash. I just stared and stared, not quite taking it in.
Hard to believe that it all took place nearly 30 years ago, but Penguin has just announced that next month it will be publishing a biography of Diana written by her brother, Charles Spencer. Well it was hardly ever going to be a hatchet job, was it. I can’t help wondering what more there can possibly be to say about Diana.
Maybe we will be surprised. Maybe her brother has access to information that will completely reframe the way Diana is remembered. There again, I may not be the target market.
I appear to be the only person who doesn’t give a toss that Harry and Meghan are returning to the UK. As far as I’m concerned, they can live where they like. Even so, I am sure I will still read the Diana offering.
After a wonderful week away with friends in France where we managed to relax, laugh and forget about cancer, there’s one thing that’s almost always guaranteed to bring you down to earth. A reminder that your holiday is well and truly over. That’s the moment when you take your car back to the car hire centre at Toulouse airport.
Extract — continue reading at the source.
