A date to remember: September 9, 2022, the day a 96-year-old woman died in Britain. It was not unexpected given her age. She was Mrs Sarah Coady, of 83, Tosson Terrace, Heaton, Newcastle-upon-Tyne, Tyne & Wear in the north-east of England.
She lived to a grand old age, did Sarah and she will be missed by her two sons Terry and Jim and her daughter Joan, her grandchildren Wayne, Kevin, Anthony, Louise, Meg and Liz. She will not be missed by ‘the nation’ and ‘the nation’ will not mark her passing with 12 days of mourning.
There will be no wall-to-wall coverage on TV and radio of her life and death and the newspapers will not carry page upon page of photographs of her, young and old. Finally, there will be no longwinded analysis wherever you care to look in the media of what Sarah’s death means for ‘the nation’ and what the future holds for her extended family. The reason is that ‘the nation’ did not know Sarah Coady.
If all that sounds a little sour — I’m obviously obliquely commenting on the death of the queen of England and there is, as far as I know, no Sarah Coady who once lived in Tosson Terrace (though I did, 43 years ago, at no. 105) — it’s because I am more than a little bemused by what is happening in Britain as I write and shall be happening for the next 12 days (though I did read Charles — sorry, Your Majesty Charles III — has ruled, as only a ‘king’ can rule, that there will be seven days of mourning after the funeral and that isn’t for a week or two yet).
I am sincerely trying to work out my lack of ‘grief’. I had and have nothing against Liz Windsor or any of her family. On the other hand I can’t get my head around the idea of ‘kings’ and ‘queens’ ‘ruling’ us their ‘subjects’. I’m nobody’s bloody subject.
Yet all my Facebook friends except one, my guitar tutor who is one of the saner men I know, has apparently gone to pieces over the queen’s death. But why? Did they really ‘love’ Brenda as they do their partners, children and family? I would be destroyed if anything happened to either of my children (one now 26 and the other 23 and off gallivanting around South America), but that is it.
For the media, of course, it is a grand opportunity to print or broadcast the dead queen’s life story (as though it had changed since the last ten times her life story was documented), print loads and loads of piccies we have all seen before, gush, gush, gush about the poor woman, but crucially a poor woman none of us knew.
From what I hear Elizabeth Windsor was an intelligent woman of character who was diplomatically talented in that she had to steer clear of politics and who furthermore had a gift for mimicry and could be very funny. And I admire her for that. But did I ‘love my queen’? No, I did not. Am I heartbroken that she has died (at 96, fancy! None of us saw that coming)? No, I am not.
Is there something wrong with me? Am I, in fact, saying what others also think but believe it best not to do so publicly?
Answers please on a postcard to the usual address.
