About Cliff Richards.

About Sir Cliff Richard – christened Harry Webb.

I have always had a kind of moderated empathy with the pop star (Sir) Cliff Richard, although our paths have only occasionally crossed – and then many years ago in his early days of fame.  Although we were born thousands of miles apart – him in India and me in the East End of London and with only 4 months between us-  I found him to be a very pleasant and polite person despite already  being an incredibly popular ( and talented ) entertainer from the very start of his career. And from recent  media coverage he  still seems to be basically the same kind of person.

Of course his homosexuality – once hidden from the public for many years – is now common knowledge, a fact which he now has to cope with after the many years of adoration by his millions of loyal female ( & many male ) fans.  

His 1963 hit song Batchelor Boy ( the line “happy to be a bachelor boy until his dying day” might have given us a clue to his sexuality then) has come to be actual fact as Cliff has never married although several unsuccessful attempts have been made to link him to possible girlfriends.  He is of course and always will be a committed homosexual , his brain irreversibly damaged from birth. ( see my essay Homosexuality the Cause & Effect.) 

Unfortunately he has had a bit of a rough time lately what with the internet and what is laughingly called social media able to say anything they like about him, while any attempts by him to put his side of the story only tend to make things look even worse than they really are.

Cliff is now a old man and most of the time despite the stress , the make up and his extreme wealth looks it for most of the time he is exposed to the pubic gaze. 

He still has a wonderful singing voice and is also fortunate in being able to get away from it all to his very private small vineyard estate , possibly with some kind of friend/companion of similar  lifestyle/persuasion.

I do feel very sorry for him as he had no choice in his inherited genetic lifestyle and like very many homosexuals terribly unhappy with their lot has tried just about everything possible to try to correct it , but of course to no avail at all. 

And there is not very much more than I can say about it - except to wish him luck for the future.  

good humour

We can often discover good humour in the strangest of places. Not long ago I bought a small book – not much more than a booklet actually – in Waterstones Piccadilly store.  Published in 2017 it was a light hearted look at The British Diplomatic Service over a period of years and made good reading.

Here is a short piece that I have pinched from it – with apologies to the Turkish population everywhere.

It’s a letter from the British Ambassador to Moscow to Lord Pembroke at the Foreign Office , London dated 1943.

“My dear Reggie,

In these dark days man tend to look for those little shafts of light that spill from the heavens.  My days are probably darker than yours and I need - my god I do - all the light I can get .

But I am a decent fellow and I do not wish to be mean and selfish about what brightness is shed upon me . So, I propose to share with you a tiny flash that has illuminated my sombre life and tell you that God has given me a new Turkish colleague whose card tells me that he is called Mustapha Kunt.

Well , we all feel like that Reggie from time to time especially when spring is upon us, but few of us would care to put it on our cards.

It takes a Turk to do that ! “  

Mid December 2018

11/12/2018

I’ve been having a pretty easy time of things health wise just lately ,teeth , hearing and general health not giving me too much trouble  -  until last week that is.

I was at  Barbara’s bungalow in Stowmarket when out of the blue it suddenly hit me. My myeloma that is , which although it was diagnosed 9 years ago I had never had any kind of reaction from it and was only aware of it through regular blood tests. It came without any kind of warning at all, was extremely painful and as I was to discover caused some quite severe damage.

Barbara managed to manhandle me into her car and rushed   me straight to the local hospital in nearby Bury St Edmunds and that’s where I woke up about 4 hours later not having the faintest idea where I was.

I soon discovered that they had found major deterioration of a bone in my upper arm and that I  had immediately undergone a major operation to deal with it by fitting a permanent metal splint in the arm. The operation was a success and although the arm is in a sling I can move it about and there is not too much pain.  I have a review of the situation in 3 days time and hope I will be out of the sling by the Xmas holidays.

In the meantime I think that Barbara has found a very nice mature local man to deal with the garden , trees and etc; and even possibly some general handyman work.

 Our local park. 

We will have a very quite Xmas here in Stowmarket for the holiday but Barbara has planned one of her usual magnificent buffets for the new year for family and neighbours who are on their own .  Our grandchildren are no longer children but grown up with their own lives but I expect we shall still see them from time to time – I do hope so anyway.