I noticed this morning that the front page of one of the nationals claimed that the Lichfield heckle was the 'last straw' for the King, and stung him into decisive action, banishing his brother, the erstwhile Duke of York and Prince Andrew, into the outer darkness (i.e. a more than comfortable house on the agreeable Sandringham estate). In case you missed the story, what happened was that the King, who visited Lichfield last Monday, was shaking hands with wellwishers outside the west door of the cathedral when an ill-mannered republican started shouting Andrew-related questions at him, not expecting answers and not getting any from Charles, who completely ignored the heckler.
I, along with le tout Lichfield, had regarded the incident as something of a stain on the fair name of our city, and, had I been present, I might even have joined those telling the loud-mouthed sansculotte to 'shut up'. However, if the unfortunate incident left Charles finally resolved to banish the appalling Andrew, then that, I suppose, was a good outcome.
In other news, this morning – a sunny one, but windy and not exactly warm – I saw a very energetic Red Admiral flying past a nearby house, and then another one, equally full of beans, flying away from me in the park. November butterflies! I wonder if they will be the last of the year...
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