The Royal Wedding has come and gone. Everyone and their Uncle, Aunt and distant cousin has had their say. Even yours truly gave her two cents worth in her previous blog (under valuing, she knows - what can she say? She's modest).
You'll be relieved to know, that I am now going to stop speaking/writing in the third person.
Moving on, however, seems to be difficult for a certain sister of the bride. The Markle who doesn't sparkle appears to have shifted her attention from Meghan to Meghan's mother.
Samantha Markle has had the gall to suggest that Doria Ragland is cashing in on her daughter, by agreeing to an interview with Oprah Winfrey.
First of all, I think someone is suffering from an acute case of sour grapes, as Ms Winfrey hasn't asked her for an interview (as if she would).
Second of all, someone needs to tell Ms Sour Grapes that Ms Winfrey hardly needs to pay people to interview them. Being interviewed by her is reward enough.
I am quite sure, if and when, this interview takes place, Doria Ragland will conduct herself with the same dignity she did at her daughter's wedding.
In the meanwhile, the paparazzi and tabloid press appear to, once again, suffer from a conscience by pass, as they continue to pursue Thomas Markle.
It's bad enough that the poor man ended in hospital just before his daughter's wedding, they continue to come up with photos and headlines such as 'Meghan's Dad goes to Starbucks for a Coffee after heart op.', (conveniently ignoring their role in the said 'heart op').
Besides, in what universe is a man going to Starbucks (or any other Coffee house) for a coffee (there's a surprise) pass for 'news'?
When my husband asked if I'd like to go to Wentworth to watch the PGA Championship, I politely declined. Serves me right for being polite, because he went ahead and bought the tickets anyway. (I'm sure I'm not the first woman who's husband suffers from selective deafness).
Up until now, I have not been a fan of golf. The only experience I have had of golf, is playing it on the Nintendo Wee, although, I am pretty good at it there, if I do say so myself.
So, yesterday, while I did not kick and scream, I exuded a 'slightly inconvenienced' air, as we drove to the train station, took the train and then a bus - my inconvenienced air going from 'slightly' to 'highly' with every mode of transport.
Turns out, I quite enjoyed myself. There was a lot of walking to do, a lot of looking at men pondering small white balls and gauging distances from the balls to the holes.
The distances can be short, medium or long, my husband pointed out helpfully. Just like everything in life then, including the height and girth of the human race.
One golfer (I'll spare his blushes and not name him) had the misfortune of hitting the ball onto the public path. Very quickly a crowd gathered in anticipation of seeing him hit it back to where it was supposed to go.
He was cool and even joked that he had done it deliberately. Everyone was rooting for him except for five teetering, sniggering, young men (I am being polite)
Anyway, he swung his club and beautifully whacked the ball - and the smiles off the faces of the jackasses - (to hell with being polite). The Italian lady next to me put it best in one word - 'bello!'
She also used her arm to replay the trajectory of the ball, which I found very helpful, as when that small white ball is airborne, it turns invisible to my eye.
Notice, I haven't tried to use any golfing terms - I don't want to embarrass myself - I'll leave that to sniggering idiots (I am on an impolite roll now).
Highlight of the day? Catching a glimpse of Rory McIlroy.
Just before I finish, did you know that Doria Ragland's life is back to normal? She even took her dogs for a walk the other day.....I truly despair!
Until next week, try and keep it light!
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