Happy families

A family is never fixed.

Who would have thought, for instance, that on the day of the great Diamond Jubilee thanksgiving service, it would be Camilla in the state landau sitting next to the Queen?

Ten years ago, Camilla was a hate figure, people threw bread buns at her in the supermarket, what Her Majesty thought, she kept to herself.

But presumably Camilla keeps Charles happy and has gradually become more accepted. She seems to get on well with her stepsons, has also looked after the new Duchess of Cambridge as she’s negotiated royal family life, and now she’s keeping the queen company on a tricky day.

Even the staunchest republican must have found it in their heart to have a pang of sympathy for Her Majesty all alone on her big day, especially when she walked into St Paul’s at the end of the procession, by herself. She suddenly looked her 86 years and – to hell with the protocol – I longed for someone to go and walk beside her.

And can you imagine the Duke of Edinburgh’s reaction to the intimacies of his bladder being a subject for discussion in the media? We sympathise with that and with the cystitis.

Still, it got him out of the concert, which we guess is probably not his thing But although the pomp and splendour were fun, the jubilee was a lot about family too.

Family feuds are frighteningly easy to start. It’s the people who know you best who know best how to wound you. It’s the people you love the most who can cause the biggest hurt.

The royal family has seemed on occasion pretty close to imploding but there they all were at the jubilee, adapting to the new family shape and looking pretty happy with it.

So if your family is going through one of those horribly tricky patches that all families go through from time to time, then relax. With time and good will, families can cope with anything.

Camilla ended up with the best seat in the procession. That’s families for you.

Flagging under pressure

I GOT a bit carried away by the Jubilee celebrations and decided to make a Union Jack cake – from a recipe that was the winning entry in a competition in The Times.

There was red sponge, made with real raspberries, and blue sponge, made with blueberries, and lots of double cream for the white bit and strawberries for the thin red line. So far so good.

Making the cake was simple and but the diagram for assembling it into a union jack defeated me utterly.

My friend Angela took one look at the diagrams and said it reminded her too much of O-level geometry.

It just made an Ikea wardrobe look easy-peasy. This wasn’t baking – it was more a job for Bob the Builder.

Can I do it? No I couldn’t.

So in the end I slapped the red sponges on top of the blue sponge and stuck them together with the cream and strawberries. It might not have looked as pretty, but it was still red, white and blue and tasted delicious.

Did anyone out there actually make that cake? If so, I salute you.

And did you have time for anything else over the jubilee?

Worry not

STOP worrying – it’s bad for you.

Women who worry have to work harder to perform simpler tasks than men and make more mistakes on harder tasks, say US researchers. Something to do with the levels of oestrogen. Oh dear. I shouldn’t have told you that, should I? It’ll just give the worriers something else to worry about.

Intruder is shining example

IN the US there’s a woman who breaks into people’s houses and cleans them. How wonderful is that?

My mother, bless her, was the closest I ever got to a cleaning fairy. And an insomniac friend who once prowled the house in the early hours and ended up sorting out all the random socks long abandoned in the washing basket. I came downstairs to find 30 neatly matched pairs lined up on the kitchen table. Joy.

Any cleaning lady who wants to break into our house, please feel free.

But it might be a challenge too far.

Beckham overload

DAVID Beckham popped up on TV with his greetings to the Queen. Of course he would. He’s everywhere.

He was there at the lighting of the Olympic torch too.

Why?

He’s a footballer. He lives in America.

These days, he’s more famous for his tattoos and his underpants.

He might be a lovely chap, but what on earth has he got to do with British sport any more?

A welcome return from retirement

IAN Rankin has brought his 60-yearold detective Rebus out of retirement and given him a new case – because the retirement age for Scottish policeman has gone up since he wrote the last book.

Making us all work longer has at least had one cheerful bonus.

Swaledale’s golden girl

MANY congratulations to Helen Bainbridge, of Reeth, who has transformed the tiny Swaledale Museum in recent years and made it a real centre of local activity.

In Reeth, Helen may be “Mrs Museum” fascinated by the humbler aspects of Swaledale life, but wearing another hat (and probably carrying a briefcase) she is also Dr Helen Clifford, an expert in the history of precious metals. And as Dr Clifford she is the curator of a major exhibition at the Goldsmiths’ Hall, in London, Gold: Power and Allure, to coincide with the Olympics.

It’s had rave reviews. “Dazzles with its wit, high spirits and astonishing facts,” said one.

Well, we wouldn’t expect anything else from Helen Bainbridge, would we?

The free exhibition runs until July 28. I shall be going.

Backchat

Dear Sharon,
THANK you for your tip about car insurance. I’ve always automatically renewed mine thinking that was the best to do. This time for the first time I looked it up on the internet and I’ve got it £40 cheaper for the same cover. Thank you!

Peter Golding, by email.

Dear Sharon,
I GREW up in the 1950s like you, but I don’t think we were as well off. In West Boldon, we didn’t have luxuries like washing machines and central heating.

Until I was six or seven we still had the tin bath and the outside netty.

My two sisters and I shared one bed and my two brothers another and how my mother managed to keep us clean and well dressed and well fed, I don’t know.

Without all the TVs and computers and electronic games that children have today, we were very happy. We had a proper childhood playing outside all day with our friends and we always felt safe as we knew everyone and we knew we could call on any grown-up in an emergency.

I’m trying not to look back through rose-coloured spectacles and I know it must have been hard for my parents, but I really think we had a happier childhood than children today.

Margaret Clarkson, by email