Prince Philip is dead. It’s tough to know how to write the obituary. He kept many people entertained for decades with his casual racism. He was unusually discreet with his affairs, so well done him. He lived to 99, which is a good innings, isn’t it? I know, it’s disappointing to get so close to 100 and yet fall short. In his later years, he managed to pull a pretty impressive impression of a virus. Not dead, yet…is it alive?
I took a photo of Phil once. With Her Maj, on their way to Will and Kate’s wedding. There it is at the top of the page. Now, at this point, I think I’ve exhausted my interest in this subject. However, I’ve heard the national anthem play on the radio more times in the last twenty minutes than I have in the last twenty years.I suspect that this humble subject is going to be subjected to much more of this subject over the coming days.
There’s going to be a funeral, of course. Private, expect. Not a full state affair. We are still a bit locked down. They could delay it till after most restrictions are lifted in mid May, I suppose. It’s not as if his body is likely to decompose significantly more than it has over the last decade or two. Of course, if we get an extra bank holiday or what not out of this, then you should expect my interest in Phil’s demise to dramatically increase.
God save the Queen. (I think that’s how one ends this type of post…)
I went back to your May 2o17 post that had his quotes and sayings to get his great insight and chuckles on his acid humor. Thanks for his memories!
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