Anyone else have a couple of fat pigeons as an alarm clock? Sitting down at my beautiful desk upstairs – not sure if I’ve mentioned it? – the afternoon air is cooler and more generous, the humidity all but gone and the pigeon chorus is in full swing. Now, I love the sound but these two are early risers, full of chat and 5am is pushing it! There, I’ve said it – laughing emoji!
So, the circus has gone. Apparently, 300,000 people descended on St Andrews over the course of last week and the weekend. Wow! Not sure the outcome was the chosen one – Cameron Smith, the 28-year-old Aussie with the mullet would have been better suited to the set of Home and Away rather than the face of The 150th Open in St Andrews but, then, these are changed days. One cannot help but feel for Rory McIlroy, though, and the perfect victory which so narrowly eluded him.
I have ventured into town, although not to the beach as yet. Just waiting for the dust to settle. After all, it took months – if not years – in preparation and what goes up must come down. Gratefully, roads are no longer being treated as pedestrian walkways and there is a welcome sense of calm. Overall? Not impressed. A historic tournament synonymous with the once little historic town in the East Neuk, 2022 saw it sell out to the corporate big guns. Mastercard seemed the dominant as it ‘bought over’ hotels and restaurants along with American Express, the likes of NBC, a guaranteed table. Businesses have posted their thanks in gratitude for the burgeoning takings in exchange for private hospitality. How jolly decent of them. What, however, of their bread and butter? The regulars and locals who frequent the restaurants and bars all year round? Who fill the rooms and the tables in the bleak winter months? Not a thought. Not a care. Instead, show me the money – along with the celebrity and fifteen minutes of fame. The minions can wait.
Which brings me on to The White Stiletto … Honestly, she should be best buddies with The Humanitarian Hypocrites in view of their shared penchant for double-standards. Oh, forgive me, for any new readers unfamiliar with my musings, translated that is Nicola Sturgeon and the Duke and Duchess of Spurious – sorry, Sussex! Yes, she was here, obviously. White stilettos? Would not surprise me but, certainly, she was flanked by her flunkies/plain-clothed policemen. Flying the flag for Scotland, once more, she ‘sacrificed’ herself and her beliefs to be ‘wined and dined’ at a prestigious, global event embedded in elitism. Wonder if she popped into the Royal and Ancient to ‘suggest’ the introduction of gender-neutral loos? For, let’s face it, the R&A was/is the bastion of male exclusivity. A private members’ club, only in 2014 did it end the 260-year ban on women – under pressure – but I suspect the concession is, fundamentally, superficial. The R&A – organisers of The Open, one of the four men’s major golf tournaments – represents the antithesis of all that Ms Sturgeon stands for. Private, exclusive, monied, steeped in history and tradition … like magnets repelling! Ms Sturgeon is a socialist. Supposedly, she craves equality, achievable – so, she thinks – by means of sinking to the lowest common denominator. Tradition and merit are the domain of ‘the privileged’ and ‘the privileged’ must be eradicated. Makes perfect sense to one who subscribes to – and vehemently promotes (read ‘shoves down one’s throat’) – a new world devoid of male and female, replaced instead by the gender fluid. Procreation? Adam and Eve? Old news. Welcome to the land of ‘woke’, hellbent on self-destruction.
However, I digress. My point is that Ms Sturgeon, for all her grievance politics, is anything but averse to an opportunity to fraternise, personally, with those she purports to despise. Thus, for example, she and ‘Mr Sturgeon’ appeared at the Jubilee Service in Westminster. The pomp and circumstance must have been truly torturous. Soon after, she was caught on film popping across the road from the monstrosity that is the Scottish Parliament building to see her Neighbour in Holyrood Palace, a bottle of whisky and a tartan throw in hand. Methinks, though, that nothing can make up for the proximity of the concrete carbuncle directly opposite her Majesty’s holiday residence. Whatever happened to planning permission? Of course, there can be no doubting the Queen’s true feelings about Ms Sturgeon’s obsession with independence, nor the latter’s true feelings about the monarchy but, then, that’s the ‘game’ of life. Hypocritical or duty? The Queen is merely serving her country as she has done for the past seventy years. Never complain, never explain. Ms Sturgeon? The proverbial paper socialist. Criticise, of course, but partake at every opportunity!
Harry could sympathise given his cringe-worthy Netflix induced address before the U.N. General Assembly in New York last week. Commemorating Nelson Mandela Day, he was word perfect as he recited Meghan’s script – with feeling – on poverty in Africa, the rescinding of Roe v Wade constituting an attack on US democracy itself (not ‘Megs’ at all!) and, of course, climate change. Empty chairs. As their star wanes, who, really, has any desire to listen to a lost Prince who has ‘chosen’ to shirk duty in favour of a millionaire lifestyle in Montecito requiring of sixteen bathrooms and private jets? It’s all about privacy and the room to grow …
One has to wonder whether they are, genuinely, unaware of the glaring hypocrisy – worrying in itself – or, infinitely more likely, their misplaced arrogance is such that they believe they can pull off the con! Either way, Harry is in deep, deep trouble at the mercy of his ruthless, ambitious wife, the comparison with whom Wallis Simpson does not deserve.
Still on the subject of deluded Royals, Camilla … I watched the recent ITV documentary, Camilla’s Country Life. Behind-the-scenes footage of her guest-editing the July edition of the prestigious magazine, her life – and image – have come a long way from the Diana days. An easy watch, I shall forever struggle with her deep voice but she appeared both amiable and approachable. Admittedly, alarm bells rang when she matter-of-factly admitted to having buried her sister’s teddy bear following an argument – as children, I might add – but it was her sanctimonious statement that she lives her life treating others as she would like to be treated herself which took the biscuit. In fact, she claims to have taught her children the very same. Seriously?! Her treatment of an innocent young girl – fourteen years her junior – tells a different story. She was cruel. She was callous. She was cold. Not for one minute would she choose to be treated the way she treated Diana. There can be no justification for her behaviour. Ultimately, she got what she wanted but a leopard does not change its spots and forever is a long, long time. It is said Prince Harry has/will never forgive her. No wonder! Sixteen bathrooms and private jets aside, in this, we are as one.
Just checking Google Analytics – doctored in the extreme – I see I have acquired a reader in The Philippines. Marvellous! Acutely aware, from the start, of the free accessibility of my posts, they are my voice. Never doubt that every word is considered; every message intended. Fiction has never been my style, believing strength lies in honesty. For that, I offer no apology. Did I mention I am halfway through my book? Oh, and one last thing – never presume to know more. I write only that which I want you to read …
‘If you tell the truth, you don’t have to remember anything.’
This is Trish, signing off.