Birthday Boy

HRH Prince Philip, Duke of Edinburgh is 90 today, the boy done good as we used to say on the terraces. A happy birthday to him and may he have many more of them.

I have come across him only twice. Once he was the keynote speaker at a conference I attended urging us on to greater things and higher productivity in the national interest. I recall we skipped the evening session and went to the pub.

The other time was when I was on a fast night run down to Dover along the then two lane A1 with my half ton camping trailer swinging behind me and was overtaken by a group of limousines and a police escort. There was a lot of light flashing, horns and sirens going which I ignored.

As the main car passed I saw the Duke looking out of the window. I think he was saying something distinctly naval. It may have been my driving but it may have been someone in the back seat with a thumb to the nose waggling fingers.

However, as a lad he did his time and with distinction. Given the challenges of his role since he has done remarkably well in the various circumstances.

He served on HMS Valiant (above) and I am sure those of the crew in the other picture still with us would give him a cheer.

The Kings Speech

HM King George VI:

“What happens next?”

Bloke at end:

“If you’re lucky you get a prize.”

God Bless The Prince Of Wales

My Lord Rogers of Rackrent, one of the Very Venerable and Great Panjandrums of The London Mediocracy who hold all, apart from themselves, in utter disdain, has let it be known that he is peeved with the Prince of Wales. He has demanded from the Prime Minister, one of his office juniors, the Secretaries of State, his office cleaners, and others that the Prince be subject to discipline, nay extirpation (that will cause a run on Wikipedia). The grounds for this are that the Prince has behaved like a common Nimby (not in my back yard) factionalist in expressing dislike for Lord Rogers concept of a huge heap of metal and glass piled up at random on a disused military site in London, that overlooks a Royal Park, central Royal properties, and one of the few attractive patches of central London.

Oddly, these Royal places, despite occupying a fair amount of space do not intrude on, nor dominate the sky line. Lord Rogers wants to do just that, and in line with past and future plans wishes to ensure that for the next century or more it is his buildings or those put up with his imprimatur that will define London as it enters its period of terminal decline. Yet he calls the Prince arrogant. I have called His Royal Highness a few things in my time, but that word is not amongst them.

Even more strangely, Lord Rogers is amongst the most active and intent of the political wheeler dealers within the London elite. His pursuit of authority and influence is relentless. Much of it is unseen and unreported, understandably, the wrath of Lord Rogers is to be feared. So when the Prince, faced with a major development in his patch which he dislikes and fears, decides to have a quiet word with an old contact, Lord Rogers goes into transports of rage, plays the anti-royal card at the highest levels in the media, demands that he be silenced forever, and hurls jibes and insults at a chap only trying to keep the DIY obsessive next door from wrecking the view and the value of his property.

The trouble is that it is not just HRH The Prince of Wales that Lord Rogers wants to silence, it is anyone and everyone who either questions or wishes to debate what he and some of his closest cronies are doing, and for their own profit. My interest is more simple. One way or another I am one of the poor mugs who at the end of the line have to pay for Lord Rogers, and for that matter the Prince of Wales, flights of fancy.

If Lord Rogers cannot stand the heat he should get out of the kitchen, but then does any architect really understand kitchens?