A friend pointed out something quite interesting the other day.
I was complaining about how, having been professionally obliged to watch Harry & Meghan’s whinge-athon on , I was going to have to spend the next few days ploughing through Harry’s misery memoir, Spare.
He laughed. How is it, he wondered, that the death of our beloved Queen, a woman who dedicated her entire heart and soul to this nation, took up less of my time and mental space than the bitter ramblings of her grandson, Harry?
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