Halley’s comet made an unscheduled appearance in the ethereal night sky. In very heaven, angelic choirs rang out. A light to lighten the world.
For this paragraph at least. In my universally acclaimed funeral address, I aimed to speak for my sister. For only I truly knew her.
She had the heart of a lion. And I had a glut of cliches. Yet when Diana had swept so triumphantly into the arena of royal life, I was but a callow youth awash with hormones and gripped by the self-centredness of adolescence.
Nothing much has changed. Yet I know, with all my heart, that Diana would have wanted me to tell our story. I could do with the money.
And with the 30th anniversary of the most tragic death in human history approaching, I wanted to get in before someone like Amol Rajan did. Quite simply, the Diana I knew is not the Diana that has been portrayed up till now. We have been told she had an unhappy childhood.
But let me say, we were both the secure recipients of parental love. Never were we more content than when our parents separated. Or when we were carted off to boarding schools that thrived on neglect.
Extract — continue reading at the source.
