Like the rich yolk oozing from a cracked egg, sometimes the utter weirdness of the spills unchecked into the public domain.That happened this week with the sad news of King Charles’s diagnosis.It didn’t just set in motion the usual Windsor welter of entrenched non-speaks and warring factions; of cashmere-wrapped wives bubbling with fury, while rushed meetings were set up for their menfolk in overstuffed drawing rooms as equerries hovered, looking at their watches.
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