I woke this morning thinking I could see Whitney Houston in the curtain design. Maybe it was, maybe it wasn't. People don't normally appear to me from within a curtain. Perhaps it's just a hangover from the Jubilee events, most of which I tactically avoided. Too painful, too cringe worthy, too royal for my liking. The general public lapping it all up, waving to holograms, shuffling along to Elton John, eating red, white and blue sponge cake. Growing old in this country appears to involve joining up in some garish nostalgia circus.
It's not a road I want to explore. I can't celebrate greed, inherited and meaningless power, dumb people promoted to "royal highness" and the celebrity flotsam and jetsam that follows in their wake. Gongs, medals and titles are everything to them it seems and you pay it back with all of your wrinkled dignity. Cliff, Rod and Brian May. I hope I die before I get that kind of recognition.
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