11 APRIL 2015 –

Let us not become overly interested in sexual matters.  As I think about it, my childhood had almost nothing to do with sex (understandably).  What I found to be much more interesting was that my entire family were members of the English Peerage, and that we all had titles.

            Every girl pretends to be a Princess at some time or other.  When my sister and I lernt that we and our Mum were actual titled Ladies, and that our Dad was an actual Knight, it was intriguing but sobering.  Why pretend to be a Princess if we could never actually be one ... ?

            On the other hand, we all lived on a vast Equestrian Estate.  We regularly met high-ranking members of the Armed Forces, socialised with all kinds of Nobility – including, yes, Princesses – and spent a fair amount of time in Palaces and Castles.  It was a very pleasant life.  

            Nobility had been bestowed on many British families after the War.  So many brave men had distinguished themselves in service to the Crown (i.e. service to the Realm) that I am really

surprised more of them did not earn Knighthoods.  The Peerage seemed to grow exponentially.

            If you read my previous Blogs, you may recall that my Dad's 1st Wife (and my oldest brother's Mum) ended up leaving him for a "Consular Relationship" (whatever that means) in British India.  Thus my oldest Brother Paul grew up amongst the very last years of the Raj.

            Dad pressed on.  During the Korean War, he met his 2nd Wife (a Nurse) whilst on leave in Tokyo.  Theirs was a whirlwind courtship.  My Mum (Dad's 3rd Wife) knew full well how

happy they had been.  But cancer took her, whilst my second brother Peter was still in nappies.

            That loss almost killed my Dad.  But he did his duty as a sponsor of the British Equestrian Team at the 1956 Sydney Olympics, where he struck up a relationship with my Mum, who was then  a Team Reservist.  They married for love, and produced my sister in 1959.

            Of course I came two years later.  At first, I suppose I was very naïve.  I thought all children had Nannies.  I thought all children lived on Estates, with horses and Staff.  I thought all children befriended Statesmen and Generals.  When the Queen visited, I was not a bit surprised.

            It took some doing for our Dad and Mum to make us understand that we were special.  Not special in terms of being better than anyone else – hardly – but special in the sense of being privileged.  Having been born into the Peerage, unlimited doors would be open to us.

            We were also very well-to-do (whatever that meant) and had not only money, but "friends in high places".  When we were very small and were taken to visit Sir Winston Churchill at his Chartwell Estate, what we later remembered most about the experience were his black swans.

            It was not until I was eight years old that I began to understand what this was really all about.  On 6 June 1969 we were invited to Normandy to commemorate the 25^th Anniversary of D-Day.  I lernt then that Dad was a great war hero who had helped liberate Occupied Europe.

            What kind of man was he?  Merely the kind I would someday risk my life for ...