What a glorious, frabjous couple of days. Quite took one’s mind off the heat. I was there, the day that the Cambridge Royal baby was born. By there I don’t mean ‘there’. That would have been intrusive. I mean anxiously awaiting The News along with the rest of Her Majesty’s Press.
And what a feast of information it was, beautifully summed up by the BBC’s Simon McCoy from outside the actual hospital where the birth was to take place telling viewers: “Well, plenty more to come from here of course. None of it news because that will come from Buckingham Palace. But that won’t stop us.” What a fantastic reporter he is.
In the Guardian, a day later, a degree of weary cynicism had crept in, the target being, naturally, the smudgers and not the more considered and knowing reporters: “The photographers assured one another of what might happen next, based on unimpeachable sources: other photographers. ‘They’re coming out in an hour.’ ‘They’re coming out this afternoon.’ ‘They’re not coming out till tomorrow.’ ‘We’ll get an hour’s warning.’ ‘They’ll go out the back – we’ll get nothing.'” What a world-weary paper it is.
Twitter of course went bonkers with David Cameron sharing the Sun‘s stage with celebs of whom you may never have heard, all telling an anxious world how happy they all were. Phew! What a model of invaluable stuff can be found in so few characters.
Journalists, even the ardent republican ones (who get round the problem by wishing individual members of the family “…no personal ill-will…” are clearly royalists at heart. Some are rambunctious and some dour, like the late, great Willie Hamilton MP. Oh how he would have enjoyed this event.
Cambridge Junior’s Ma and Pa behaved with their customary friendly dignity.
And now, for some light relief, it’s back to Vince Cable and the Taliban in the Bank of England.