Royal or not, only one thing counts at the end… friends
Sun columnist says Caroline Aherne may have been troubled, but thanks to family and pals, she had a peaceful death
IN a modern world accustomed to hearing every cough, spit and excruciating medical detail of the Kar-crashians’ vapid life, it takes us by surprise when a public figure manages to slip away quietly.
But, just like her fellow comedienne Victoria Wood, Caroline Aherne managed it.
She had admitted publicly that she’d been diagnosed with lung cancer, but no one outside of her closest circle knew the severity of it.
One friend says: “She got in touch two months ago and made it clear she knew she was going to die.
“She asked everyone to keep it quiet because she didn’t want any fuss, and everyone respected her wishes.
“Most of the people who knew weren’t showbiz friends, but people who had known her all her life.”
Ah yes, “showbiz friends.” Much like “Facebook friends”, they’re a social construct rather than a reality;
People to pose alongside for a selfie to show everyone else what a good time you’re having without them.
But when it comes to the blood, guts and vomit of serious illness, that’s when the real friends show themselves.
They might walk your dog, or do the school run, or pitch up with a delicious shepherd’s pie you can just stick in the oven for the kids, or mop up the side- affects of your medication — but the important thing is, they are there.
At the end, be we prole or princess, that’s what it comes down to.
The car you drove, be it Lada or Lamborghini, the house you lived in, be it terraced or turreted, the job you had, be it cleaner or CEO — it’s all irrelevant when you’re lying in one bed, in one room, awaiting death.
What matters is the people surrounding you.
Much has been made of the fact that Caroline “died alone” at home.
But that doesn’t mean hers was a lonely death, far from it.
“It was too quick, we didn’t expect her to go,” says one distraught close relative, while her devoted brother Patrick takes solace from the fact that “she is now in a better place and most of all she has no pain”.
How many times do loved ones sit around a hospital bed for hours, only for the patient to die in the few minutes they pop downstairs for a cup of tea?
Being there at the moment of death may be solace for those left behind, but for the dying it’s their presence in the preceding weeks and days that really counts.
Caroline may have had a troubled life, but thanks to her family and close friends, she had a peaceful death knowing she was truly loved.
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— UKIP leader Nigel Farage says he is standing down because “I want my life back” and wishes to spend more time at home.
One can only hope this is a sentiment shared by the low-key Mrs F.
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THERESA IS FIT TO DELIVER
COMETH the hour, cometh the woman. Or women, to be precise.
As it stands at the time of writing (after all, a few hours is a perilously long time in today’s political landscape) Home Secretary Theresa May is the front runner to replace David Cameron with virtual unknown Andrea Leadsom is in second place.
It has prompted much debate along the lines of “it’s time for another female PM” etc.
No, it isn’t. It’s time for a PM who will deliver on the Brexit vote and listen to the concerns of everyone, not just the metropolitan elite.
Their gender is, and should be, irrelevant.
To my mind, there are too many inconsistencies in Ms Leadsom’s political narrative and it’s likely she may prove to be a stalking horse.
Theresa May is a safe pair of hands with an impressive track record in government and, importantly, is known and largely trusted by the voters.
Her suitability to run the country can perhaps be summed up by the words of Hillsborough campaign leader Margaret Aspinall who said: “Everything she promised me, she has fulfilled.”
Similarly, Michael Gove is proving to be a conviction politician who has put his principles before his personal friendships in pursuit of what he believes is the best way forward for Britain, not himself.
So for me, the dream ticket would be May for PM, with Gove as deputy and a special portfolio to deliver Brexit with as little fuss and disruption as possible.
Watch this space.
Swiftest declaration
TAYLOR SWIFT has admirable self- esteem.
Her songs reflect this, but so too does her choice of holiday companion.
After all, who among us would be confident enough to share a continent, let alone the same square foot of beach, as bikini-clad supermodel Gigi Hadid?
Not me for starters. But I digress.
Taking speed dating to a whole new level, the “Hiddleswifts” (Taylor and shiny new boyf Tom Hiddleston) are spending every nanosecond together and have already met each other’s parents.
And now this. The “L word” so soon into their relationship. Writ large, emoji-style, on a vest.
Unless, of course, it’s merely coincidence and he picked it up at a Magnum PI flood sale.
LAW UNTO THEMSELVES
ACTOR Jude Law says he gets lots of little gifts from fans through the post and was “once sent someone’s fingernails”.
Yeuch! Cue vomiting emoji.
He adds: “I’ve signed pregnant bellies several times as well, which I always find a bit weird.”
Not to mention, one presumes, a little fear-inducing in case it constitutes yet another paternity agreement for the libidinous thespian.
Divorce caught
FORMER “supermodel” Christina Estrada has been drawing gasps of collective disbelief as she fights ex-husband Sheik Walid Juffali for a £196million divorce claim on his £4billion fortune.
Christina, 54, was reportedly offered £37million to go quietly after Juffali secretly married a younger woman behind her back, but has insisted on being kept in the luxury lifestyle to which she’s become accustomed.
This, apparently, involves spending £55million on a house, a further £6.5million to decorate it to her taste, £1million a year for clothes, £330,000 for staff etc etc... you get the jaw-dropping drift.
Whatever the outcome, this case is an unsavoury peek into the excesses of the super-rich where wives are frequently treated as disposable chattels and wreak their revenge where they know it will hurt their cheating husband the most – through his wallet.
In the meantime, judging by this photograph of her arriving at the High Court last week, Ms Estrada should be asking for an extra £39.99.
The poor lamb clearly needs an iron for those trousers.
STRICTLY BUSINESS
STOP the clocks, cut off the telephone, prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone... Gleb is leaving Strictly.
Noooooooooooooooooo!
He says the relentless schedule meant he saw little of his five-year-old daughter who lives back in Moscow with his wife Elena, whom he describes as “beautiful, gorgeous, smart and really cool.”
The dancer – seen left on the show with Anita Rani – adds: “I think family is more important than fame. My wife needs to feel loved and I want to see my daughter grow up.”
So. Drop-dead handsome, super fit and a committed and faithful husband and father with his priorities straight.
Cue longing sigh. Still, it’s not all bad news.
Apparently, he’s now free from the contractual restraints of Strictly and plans a raunchy calendar.
— A MASSIVE thank you for all your emails and tweets in response to last week’s column on why people voted for Brexit.
We printed a few of them, but I assure you I read every single one.
The BLOKE quote
I'm gonna live till I die
— Frank Sinatra
Not the BLOKE quote
Someone has to die in order that the rest of us should value life
— Virginia Woolf