I’m last to the party on the subject of the tenth anniversary of Princess Diana’s death. Still, as I’m out here in exile I suppose I can be forgiven for being behind the times.
Other bloggers have given us their take on the subject here, here and here . Really, you are a bunch of mad Stalinists who don’t seem to appreciate that Diana’s death was a tragedy that changed us all FOREVER. Tut tut.
Anyway, this is what I remember of finding out about her death. I have the feeling that I’ve already recounted this in a few places, but it’s never stopped me before …
I found out after a night of drinking while we were staying with friends in Cambridgeshire. We got up late, hungover, and found one of our hosts on the phone in the living room while the television was on. The volume was turned low, but I managed to make out that the slimey and villainous Jeffrey Archer was saying “certainly, as a figure on the world stage, she is irreplaceable”.
“Fuck me!” I thought. ”THATCHER IS DEAD!”
I was already making plans about how I was going to obtain enough booze to celebrate this joyous news.
When our friend got off the phone some time later, he said “you won’t believe what Princess Diana’s done now. She’s only gone and died.”
An anticlimax to say the least.
The journey back to London was odd. In those days, we didn’t have a CD player in the car and were subjected to listening to the radio. Every station across the board was playing *Solemn Music* to mark this *Tragic Occasion*. Even bloody Radio One was playing the theme music to Merry Christmas Mr Lawrence.
Only one spot on the dial broke ranks – a pirate radio station was playing speed garage with some MC bawling over the top, oblivious to the fact that the nation was *united in grief*.
Looking back to that day, I realise that I had changed forever. I’ve become more touchy feely, confronted my fears, cried a lot, realised that all my problems are the result of my parents not buying me enough presents on my sixth birthday, cried some more, attended cognitive therapy sessions for eight years, cried some more and – finally – I reached closure a couple of weeks ago.
Now I can walk out into the big wide world and don’t have to hide behind my phoney British reserve anymore. I’m in touch with my feelings, I’m all *Continental* and it’s all thanks to Princess Diana.
May she remain Princess Of Hearts, in our hearts, forever.
Welcome to WordPress – looks like you use the same template as me. Needs a lot of ‘tweaking’ to get it to the look you like – don’t give up too soon!
That 6th birthday thing is a real bummer for you in later life … I got given a baby sister which I thought was not much fun …
Diana used to close her eyes and imagine Charles was Lee Brilleaux.
Belle – well, I’m still not sure that I’ll be sticking around here, so I won’t be putting too much effort into how it looks yet. Besides, I’m going to be on dial up for a week and a half when we change over service providers. If I have to go on dial up, I don’t want to be spending an hour downloading my blog because there are lots of fancy pictures and stuff on here! … just thinking about having to be on dial up has suddenly made me feel really depressed
Geoff – didn’t she have a fling with Wilko Johnson when she was still a plump brunette?
Everyone touched bass with Wilko Johnson. Feelgood factor indeed!
I was going to make a sick joke about milk and alcohol and Lady Di but I can’t remember what I was going to say – mainly because I probably haven’t had enough alcohol.
Murph – everybody who was involved in the pub rock scene touched bass with each other, audience and bands alike. Canvey Island was riddled with every pre-AIDS STD you can think of in the mid 1970’s. Diana certainly wasn’t the blushing innocent people think she was before meeting Charles.
Rockmother – I shouldn’t worry, nobody else seems to be reading now the novelty’s warn off. Besides, if any of the mentalist Diana fans find out that there are sick, but funny, jokes about the People’s Princess on here they’ll flag me as inappropriate and I’ll be blocked from WordPress as well!
I was on weekend duty/calls when it happened. Newsdesk subsequently seemed less than interested in my “traffic lights change in Oldbury” or “bird found in tree in Pelsall” stories. No work for Pither that weekend. Hurrah! God bless ‘er!
Spookily, I was also on weekend duty when Fag Slag Margaret rolled a seven and again when Beryl Bowes Lyon Reid (aka the Queen Mother) finally fell apart. No work on those weekends either – who says the Royal Family does nothing for us? They may not know much but they know when to die.
So, Elizabeth, what exactly are we going to do when the Thatchbitch is finally stabbed through the heart with a wooden stake?
Hopefully there’ll be at least a month’s national holiday to give the nation time to mourn the great figure of Twentieth Century politics, hem hem. I know quite a few people who intend to piss on her grave. If everybody knows a few people who are intending to piss on her grave, the queue will go back for several hundred miles and will bring the country to a standstill, with any luck.
For me, watching the movie the Queen, was a great way to celebrate how our current cult of narcissism and celebrity collided with tradition. Diana was the canary in the coal mine. She made people realise that they had loved her to death.
After her death, the public’s insatiable demand for Dianamania finally made them realise that the bloody paparazzi were their fault. Drunk chauffeurs aside, the guilt of killing the unicorn should have changed the rules about hounding celebs.
Now our bipolarity is out in the open. We hate photographers but still want the pics.
She did change the Monarchy and if and when William ever gets there, he will be approachable and almost humanlike. Charles is the last of the stodgy stiff upper lip set.
You’re right, Diana did change the monarchy. Problem is, although William and Harry are indeed more “humanlike” they still uphold the same traditions – the hierarchy, not upsetting the applecart too much, shooting animals, all that stuff.
I’m not sure that a lot of the Diana fans would have made the connection between their insatiable interest in her and the fact that she died because of that. I suppose at least they weren’t as bloody minded and cynical as the kind of people who want to read about Lindsay Lohan and Britney Spears making a more and more of a mess of their lives.
Not wishing to make up the spare bed for Mr Argument, I would question your use of the words “our” and “we”, Homo Escapeons. Some of “us” couldn’t have given a flying tiara whether or not she went on holiday with a dodgy Arab, wore a new frock, had her hair done or had a prolapse at Badminton. You have to remember she was one of the biggest manipulators of the press since Goebbels. To an extent, if you play with fire…..
She wasn’t loved to death – that happened to Freddie Mercury – but she was possibly mass hysteriad (?) to death. I think the whole episode says more about standards of education at large than it does about the scum press.
It was a rum old do indeed. I was a teenager working in a newsagent the morning after. And everyone who came in would say “oooh, I blame the press, it was them that hounded her to death.” And then go and buy the News of the World or the People or the Mail on Sunday or whatever.
But whether we like it or not, it’s our generation’s JFK. Everyone can tell you where they were.
Reg – INTJ: http://typelogic.com/intj.html
(well, I can’t leave a comment on yours and you did ask)
Del – exactly, people can’t make the connection between how badly “the press” behaves and the fact that they buy “the press”, enabling it to survive and flourish.
I can remember what I was doing when I found out Ian Curtis had died, and I was more affected by that, but then, I was sixteen. Probably shows that I’d got my priorities wrong even then, eh?
I’m still not sure whether INTJ is shorthand for git – but thanks anwyay.