I don’t know. Three words rarely uttered by commentators seeking a paid berth on a television studio sofa or a cruise ship. In this lucrative royal world of certainty, the Queen walks on water; Prince William is sinned against, Prince Harry is the sinner; and Andrew’s transgressions are the fault of no one other than a prince who perspires no more. Viewed through this lens, any jubilee balcony appearance in June by Meghan and Harry would teeter on the edge of being treasonable.
Such clarity defies the reality. The Windsors inhabit a world of grey, where obfuscation trumps transparency and ‘sources’ or ‘royal insiders’ fill the void left by the paucity of on the record statements.
In the real world, a now 96-year-old Queen reigns remotely and no longer presses the flesh with a gloved hand. She’s castle bound, venturing out sparingly. We don’t know what, if anything, might be wrong with her beyond her advancing years impacting her mobility.
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