Tuesday, 13 April 2021

Rare Commentary.

Four year old Philip

Princess Alice with her son
1924
I am, relatively speaking, not interested in the British Royal Family but then again, not especially hostile to it either, though do believe that a country which retains Royalty and the attendant aristocracy, cannot truly be a democracy. That said, when Philip died last week, at almost 100, it was not a great personal loss though it seems, from across the Channel, that the media has, as usual, gone overboard with non stop comment and endless ‘features’. Plus ca change ……
Philip's sisters, 1922.

I have always considered Philip as physically gorgeous, when young, and unfailingly supportive to the Queen even when he let rip with racialist, colonial-type gaffes which caused offence and hilarity in equal volumes and over which remarks, Elizabeth generally sailed, serenely on. I believe he was probably a briskly-impatient father who heaped some suffering on his eldest, Charles, who followed his father's educational path but who hated Cheam Prep. School and Gordonstoun ["Colditz in kilts"!] in equal horrified measure. I do remember, too, that Edward was frog-marched into the Marines I think, when he was rather more drawn to the theatre! One didn’t need to read about the Royals to judge that Anne was awfully like her father in temperament and that they were probably great pals!

However, mea culpa, it is only now that I have learned more about Philip’s early life and feel uncomfortable that I hadn’t been interested enough to discover more when he was alive; it would have

Philip's mother became a nun. She was also recognised by Israel
as Righteous among the Nations for sheltering Jews
during WW2 in Greece. Profoundly deaf, she had a tragic but heroic life.
made me more tolerant of him. Born in Corfu in 1921 eight years after the assassination of his grandfather, King George of Greece, and youngest child of Prince Andrew of Greece and Princess Alice of Battenberg. The family was exiled when Philip was one and led a somewhat itinerant life which no doubt contributed to the nervous breakdown of his mother in 1930 when she was hospitalised. Philip did not see his mother at all between 1932 and 1937. He went briefly to live in Paris but soon landed safely chez Uncle George, the Marquess of Milford Haven who became his active guardian. Philip’s own father seems to have drifted off without contact with his son. Uncle George’s son, David, became Philip’s great friend and eventual best man at his wedding.

In keeping with the class system regarding education, Philip was sent to Cheam Preparatory School which fostered a tough, independent ethos for its boys. He grew to love it there where his sporting

Kurt Hahn, German educator and
inspired educational innovator.
talent and competitive spirit had full rein. Similarly, after Cheam, came Gordonstoun, founded by Kurt Hahn as a deliberately Spartan establishment with a heavy emphasis on sports and education for leadership. Philip, who had long decided to banish introspection and adopt a resolutely cheerful and independent spirit as a way of dealing with the chaos and loss of his earlier life, flourished, eventually rising to become Head Boy. The school gave him a secure, stable, challenging environment which compensated for his earlier rootlessness. During his years there, Cecilie, one of his four sisters who had all married when Philip was young, was killed with her family in a plane crash in 1937. His headmaster said, approvingly, that Philip took the dreadful news “like a 
George, 2nd Marquess of
Milford Haven.
man
.” Six months later, his guardian died at 45 from cancer. George of Milford Haven had been very interested in engineering and was technically ingenious and had passed on this interest to Philip. This aptitude became embedded in Philip’s enquiring mind and a fascination with how things worked, became one of the hallmarks of his subsequent life.

George’s younger brother, Louis Mountbatten, took up the guardian reins and it was he, ever ambitious for his name, who arranged for Philip, then a student at the Royal Naval College, Dartmouth, to show around Princess Elizabeth and her sister, Margaret. The enduring rumour that the 13 year old Elizabeth fell in love with him then, may well be true though such early puppy love does not usually endure and produce a marriage of 73 years. He proposed during the Summer of 1946 but George V1 was not pleased; the Court was suspicious of Philip with Louis behind him; Louis was considered “unsound” with odd habits of friendship with Labour politicians! But Philip’s early losses are poignantly echoed in a letter he sent to Queen Elizabeth after he had stayed with them, thanking her for “...the simple enjoyment of family pleasures and amusements and the feeling that I am welcome to share them.”

Engaged couple, 1946.

Philip at Gordonstoun.


Young family with Charles and baby Anne.



Towards the end. No sign here of that indomitable
spirit withering or a challenge unmet.

I obtained much of the above information from a BBC News website  which was, itself, based on the book:
Young Prince Philip: His Turbulent Early Life by Philip Eade.

Sunday, 11 April 2021

The Psychology of Owning a Car Parking Space

 

Feathers a little ruffled here!

I do not own a car but I live in a building of eight apartments with a side offering of a small car park. There are marked spaces plus two or three more available nearby in a garage. Once a year the owners of the apartments meet, this year on the ubiquitous Zoom, to discuss various relevant items. I do not attend as I am a tenant; of the owners, three live here [soon to be four] in three apartments and only one

is a car owner; the other five are absentee landlords, presumably with cars. The recent meeting apparently resulted in a very heated discussion about …. car parking. Of the absentee landlords, one lives in California; one in Monaco; one on the Belgian coast. The others live in Belgium but not in Brugge. I would guess that landlord visits by car to the building are not weekly. However, one Belgium-based owner had visited recently and his car parking space had been filled with someone else’s car. Reportedly, the fury that this aroused, presumably in the initial encounter, and certainly in the subsequent meeting, was considerable. Among the tasks allotted for the Syndic to carry out, was to discover if I had had guests. When family or friends visit for a few days, I had been told I could allow them to park in an available space and this I have done with the minority of my visitors with a car.

I received a phone call from the Syndic which began with the question, Do you have a visitor at the moment? In Covid I live at least 95+% of my time alone and cannot have visitors, residential or not. I spent Christmas alone fortified, as is my usual week, by Facetime chats. I was astonished at the question [because of Covid] but did soon discover that it was rooted in the Parking Problem. There is no need for further tedious explication though I have to admit, that my feathers were ruffled!!

And so to my question: What IS it about a private, personal parking space that can ignite the passions

in a way that a group of adults with untroubled lives, will spend a long, angry time on ‘discussion’? [“I will clamp your wheels!] I have mentioned this to a few friends and each had a story involving car parking and anger! Humans are territorial anyway and the car feels personal when one is in one’s own, driving along. It IS a personal space where one can be untidy, or store clothes and possessions, even money!. Somehow one’s car links up to the narcissist within! I can do what I like; it’s my car! The inner narcissist released! Perhaps this strong feeling of ownership is extended to include the parking space one owns too? I pay for that; it’s MINE! So the ego feels challenged, violated, when a stranger parks there without my permission [which will never be given!] I have observed that people who “blow up” quickly over something, often seem to have other anger issues; a clutch of other elements in their lives which they feel somehow diminishes them as people, and hurts them enough to cause anger. But can all the people angry about their misused parking space be SO angry? We aren’t talking cancer or heart attack or Long Covid here; just somebody parking in my space! To this car-less, car parking space-less person, it all seems incredibly petty and destructive of self and others.

Astridpark tulips

Home again after 5 months' quarantine

But in the meantime, there are tulips out in Astridpark; the swans of Brugge are out of quarantine [protection from bird 'flu] and gracing the canals again; a new rhododendron, President Roosevelt, graces my terrace and begins the annual beautification of that space; Mah Jong for three of us continues to provide a companionable few hours each week with both intellectual and sociable stimulation while my other Zoom and Facetime interludes serve to keep me in touch and connected. Feathers remain unruffled even stroked!


President Roosevelt in bloom.

Four rather refined ladies playing Mah Jong