It’s only been a couple of days but I am heartily sick of all the princely posturing. (Sorry, I just had to get that bit of alliteration in there!) There really is altogether too much analysis of the whole thing.
And there seems to be a split between those who regard Meghan Markle as a poor, picked-upon, media-harassed, victim of racism, young mother who just wants to enjoy her family and those who think she is a selfish cow who just wants her own way and anyway, how could she do that to her 90+ year old grandmother-in-law??!
Harry gets a lot less social media stick but there is still a four way split between seeing him as a poor sadness-afflicted boy who lost his mother, a brave young man finally standing on his own feet, a henpecked young husband doing what his wifey wants and a selfish rich boy.
Let it go, for goodness sake.
What I want to know is where has little Archie been while all this has been going on? Did they take him with them when they went on their holidays? Has he travelled to Canada with his mummy or was he already there being looked after by a nanny? I don’t think the young-mother-who-wants-to-enjoy-her-baby thing rings true if you farm him out to someone else to look after. He’s going to be another mixed-up kid! But then I am not a rich person.
Enough of that! Those are rich people’s problems!
Here’s another little grumble of mine. The Guardian has an ongoing from-time-to-time series called “How to Eat”. Do we need to be told how to eat stuff? That’s a deeper question. Today’s offering was How to Eat - apple crumble. Whatever my feelings about being told how to eat, I found myself agreeing with this section about the selection of fruit for this dessert:
“You would think in an apple crumble (tip: the clue’s in the name), the fruit would be uncontroversial. It’s apples, right? Judiciously sweetened but still-tart cooking apples (eg bramley), with a third of the total softened in a little reduced apple juice and spices before baking to give the filling a fluffy, almost pureed edge around the larger pieces of fruit. Simple. This is no place for sweet golden delicious, pink ladies and gala eating apples. Such varieties are an unpredictable nightmare when cooking. Some disintegrate readily, others retain a firm shape entirely unsuitable in a crumble.”
Now, I have long had this argument with Spaniards about which apples to cook. Bramley apples are simply not available. Nobody has heard of them. Even my sister, the one I usually refer to as “my Spanish sister” as she lives in Andalucia, tried to persuade me that another kind of apple could substitute. She told me about some good, tart apples she bought from her corner greengrocer. We went to look.
I asked the greengrocer what variety were these so called “baking” apple.
Granny Smith, he told me.
Yet another variety of eating apples!
I rest my case!