Thursday, 30 August 2007


On the 31st August 1997 while I was arousing from my sleep , my husband brought me a cup of tea in bed, not something I hasten to add does he do quite frequently, however, I was grateful for the brew. I had just finished working four night shifts at the hospital. My husband sat on the edge of the bed and told me the sad news of Princess Diana, I broke down, the ever emotional type.

Today there is going to be a Memorial Service to Commemorate Princess Diana's life. I too believe that she was an extraordinary woman who touched the lives of millions, as the Prime Minister wrote at the weekend, but I argue the opinion of the feminist Germaine Greer who said Diana was a "devious moron" desperate for attention.

Diana's status as a fetching international celebrity involved charitable works, and the public sympathy she engendered in the long. When she took over as a Patron of the Children's Charity Barnado's, she attended sixteen events in one year alone, more than the previous Royal who only attended once in a year. Diana touched the lives of many, and had the ability to make everybody feel special, particularly vunerable young people, who felt her warmth and affection.

People either loved Diana or they loathed her, I think there were many who did not understand her, and I have heard critics say that Diana did not understand herself even. I wonder though, if that tragic fatal accident in Paris had not occured, and Diana had been happy in her marriage to her Prince Charming, she would have eventually reigned The Queen Of Hearts over our nation.

The picture is of Princess Diana and a young girl at a Charity Cancer Event.

My Poem


I grew a Rose, a Pink Rose in my garden

I grew a Pink Rose so lovely to see;

I watched as it changed from sweet bud to


Meaning to pluck it, and give it to thee.

Delicate, fragrant, with beauty so deep,

Caressed by the warm sun, kissed by the rain,

Lovely the Rose that I grew in my Garden,

Alas, for the Pink Rose, it grew there in vain.

For oft did I tell the Pink Rose of thy beauty,

But with such beauty it could not compete;

Slowly it faded, it's fragrance departed,

Sadly it's petals then fell at my feet.

For such is thy beauty, that none can compare,

Not even sweet Angels in Heaven would dare,

Could ye walk through Fair Eden, I know there

would be,

Each bloom with it's head bowed

In deference to thee.