Mashed potatoe

Well of course you read the results of the French election first on Sologne and I do not apologise for my canny knack of anticipating events. It is pathetic to see old stooges like Antibes and Slocomb trying to catch onto my train, which left a long time ago. See their articles on the pitiful state of democracy and freedom in the UK.

So France has a new head of state. Of course other countries get new heads of state as well. Quite recently the UK got their latest version, in 1952 or was it 1953 before the young lady finally completed her hols and took up her life’s work. I don’t remember much about 1952 and the death of her daddy because he smoked too many cigarettes. But I do remember 1953.

There were not too many tellies back in those days. The local aristocrat generously set up her 13 inch black and white in her garage and we all trouped in. Dad was ‘too busy’ to go, I was young enough to believe him. Anyway it was endlessly dull and boring.

Soon after, the coronation games took place on the local green. I was entered into the egg and spoon race. Those were the days before the Brits came up with salmonella eggs by feeding the chickens their own shit. So eggs were still valued, and we got potatoes instead. I got a nasty looking example. It was misshapen with a large overhang which made it inevitably unstable on my wooden spoon. Further there were not too many competitors for the races so we were divided into little and big. I was the littlest of the little. But I was already smart. I scooted off with my ‘egg’ and but for a misfortune in the last meters I would have won. Finally some big slob got over the line while I was putting the handicapped spud back on the spoon and came second. First prize were specially minted crowns, second was a lousy half crown.

But I was not downhearted. I had done well in the circumstances and I felt sure that the next time I would win. I checked with my Mum, a young and beautiful woman, when the next coronation games were scheduled. I was of an age when I had never imagined that those two pillars in my life, Mum and Dad, would, one day, no longer be around. Imagine my consternation when my mother announced that there would be no more coronation games in her lifetime because Liz 2 was her junior.

Imagine the sense of injustice that welled up in that small frame.I would never get a fair break in life; I would never have a round spud on my spoon.