I opened the Daily Mail this morning with drooling excitement but also some trepidation. The main story was an article by their long-term commentator, Sarah Vine, a lady in the finest tradition of 'Fleet Street' who is more than capable of putting a hefty boot into anything or anyone who displeases her. Today the target was David Cameron and his wife Samantha. Of course, this was a response to Cameron's brutal attack on Michael Gove in his just published memoirs in which he accused his old friend of treachury for deciding to back 'Brexit' against Cameron's preferred 'Remain' stance. Suffice to say that Sarah Vine and Michael Gove are man and wife! Cue: incoming thunderclaps and lightning bolts!
Not so, actually! Instead, Ms. Vine in her article creates an elegant memorial to a past and very close friendship of shared pleasures and tragedy, and deep regret at the shattering end of the links between two families who, in the past, could not have been closer. Her final paragraphs sum up her feelings:
And that, ultimately, and despite all that has been said and done, is how I will always remember Dave and Samantha. As dear friends who were there at key moments of my life. In the years before power and politics got in the way of those simple, happy, human connections.
Two incredibly kind, generous souls who overcame unspeakable loss with the death of their beloved Ivan, who always embraced life even in the face of tragedy, and who inspire love and admiration in all who truly know them.
Hard as these past few years have been, nothing will ever erase those memories. Because that is what really matters: people. Not politics, not power, not Brexit.
We make mistakes and we move on. Or we should at least try. And we remember the good times. Because, in the end, that is all that remains.
It was a kind and thoughtful lament and my admiration for Ms. Vine is enormous.
I'm sure if the boot had been on the other foot, or should I say "the knife been in the other hand", it would be Sam Cam writing those flowery words.
There's no looking back now. No reconciliation. By not compromising and slapping May's hand you turned this into a latter day Battle of Towton: no quarter given by Yorks or Lancs.
Or as the Proddies are wont of saying, "Norr sthurrendur!".
SoD
Posted by: Loz | Wednesday, 18 September 2019 at 12:51