Spiritual Baileses lit candles and kept their sleeping-bagged vigil confirming Tony Blair in his hunch that Diana
Spiritual Baileses lit candles, and kept their sleeping-bagged vigil, confirming Tony Blair in his hunch that Diana had been the People’s Princess.
It took a pretty thick skin not to be moved by the immediate circumstances of Diana’s death: the hideous shock of the crash, the outpouring of public emotion, the pluck of her sons at the funeral. Far be it from us to enter into speculations concerning the after-life. Perhaps what was striking about the Walsall controversy, however, was not its oddity, but its familiarity. Almost from the first day, when the shocking news of the motor accident began to be broadcast, there has been a peculiar dichotomy between the supposedly popular image of the Star in Heaven, and the sad reality of Diana the Lost Soul. The Bailes view of the Princess was treated – by the broadcasting authorities, the newspapers (for the most part) and New Labour – as if it were the prevailing view. Taught by his mother that the Princess of Wales was a “star in Heaven”, he had a picture of her beside his bed.
But the Sunday school teachers judged the Lady by the standards of an older and harsher theology. “Princess Diana’s lifestyle was, on the evidence, immoral, anti-biblical and not one that a believer in Christ would live”, said one of the Sunday school teachers She was in hell. Sarah Bailes had withdrawn her son Darryl from the Sunday school at the Bethany Christian Fellowship after the little chap became miserable at bedtime. According to the map it’s nearly 60 miles away, and there are only two buses a day, one at 10:17 and one at 3:44 I think I’ll play it by ear. I don’t want to do anything rash or foolish unless I can be sure it will seem endearing. For now it’s important to stay cool, or conservare in luogo fresco, as the Italians say. In the meantime there’s plenty of sun, plenty of wine, a bag of slightly weird Italian crisps and a classic episode of M*A*S*H starting in 12 minutes.I could rattle on like this for several more hundred words, but I hear my brother’s Mondeo coming down the track.
They’re back from Urbino, so I think I’d better grab a few beers and go to my room Ciao!Wallace Arnold is away.. AS THE melancholy anniversary approached, the nation overheard a theological debate in Walsall, West Midlands. This is perhaps not surprising, since I found out from her mother (I do my Ned Sherrin voice, so she doesn’t know it’s me) that Julie is in Italy herself, staying with whatsisname and his parents! It’s such an extraordinary coincidence that I can’t help thinking that it isn’t a coincidence at all, but fate’s timely intervention. For a while I even imagined that I might run into her in the local village, where, of course, I would just say buon giorno, warmly but coolly, without taking off my sunglasses. A chance encounter seems unlikely, however, as the place where she’s staying is right the other end of Tuscany. My brother and I have certainly had bigger arguments than last night’s.Speaking of people who aren’t speaking to me, my girlfriend Julie (not her real name) never did call, or e-mail, or anything, despite my direct and heartfelt pleas for contact in last Sunday’s column.
