As I write, the media is full of pictures about the wedding of Kate and William, or Catherine as we are now encouraged to call her. I guess most of us are happy to see a fine young couple getting married and will wish them well whilst, at the same time, knowing something of the pressures and problems that will soon attach themselves to a future King and Queen of these ancient Isles.
The history of monarchy is shrouded in the mist of antiquity and in our own case the institution pre-dates its usurpation by another William, a Norsemen based in France. When that William married Matilda of Flanders in 1052, there were no photographers around, and so we do not have cheery pictures of the couple. But they did go on to have ten children two of whom, William Rufus and Henry 1st became Kings themselves.
William the Conqueror somehow managed to combine being a ruthless organiser of men with a stern belief in God and it has been said that his reign is symbolised by the systems of government he established, the defensive castles he built to defend himself against surly subjects, and the cathedrals he built to defend himself against an awesome God. This latter point raises a speculative question as to how God was pictured in his mind. Whatever the answer, one can be sure that his picture of God was not the same as the picture seen in the New Testament.
He wasn’t the first man to have a faulty picture in his mind and I guess he won’t be the last, for we all see things differently. This is because our eyes are connected directly to our brains, and as each brain is different it will give a different interpretation to what it sees.
Talking about seeing things in different ways reminds me that in April BBC 2 ran a programme on lambing in which we saw a lovely Cumbrian farming-family living through the annual cycle of life as it involved their flocks of Swaledales, Beltex and North Country Mules. Millions of people tuned in to look at the TV images and, despite their eyes seeing the same pictures, their brains would have been noticing and recording different things.
Rural folk will have noticed how frequently the farmer ‘intervened’ once a ewe started straining, and wondered if this was because it made good TV or was simply the need to get the ewe and lambs into a pen due to pressure of work. Others would have been comparing their own lambing practices to see if any tips could be picked up, such as dipping the umbilical cord directly into a bottle of iodine instead of dipping and lightly brushing it on via an enamelled mug as I was taught, or spraying it on as I now do. Some will also have noted that the Beltex ewe can have lambing difficulties brought about by the ‘solid’ backside which is a feature of the breed as a carcass animal.
To many metropolitan viewers however, the programme would have simply been another soap opera, albeit one set in the wet and windswept landscape of a northern hill farm. A minority might even have watched to see if they could discover something they could call cruelty to justify their taking offence, and mounting yet another attack on farming and the rural way of life.
But back to Catherine’s wedding to the current Prince William; the general air of public bonhomie reminds me not to be too worried about the minority who always appear to use such occasions as an opportunity to take offence. I have often wondered why it is, that there are always some people who decide to take offence, and so I shall not criticise those folk who appear to think that Zimbabwean or Libyan type republicanism is a better form of governance than that lying in wait for Prince William. In that same spirit of general goodwill, I shall also demur from maligning those avid souls who say that methane from cows does more damage to the atmosphere than a volcano, and so want farmers to grow cabbages instead of beef.
All this makes me think, that for the time-being I shall stick to my view that giving offence is one thing, and that taking offence is just as bad a personal choice. However misunderstandings still occur even amongst friends, but they need not lead to anyone taking offence and may indeed, occasionally, light a spark of jollity as is illustrated by the following story.
One Saturday morning in April a couple from Kempley were tidying up before going shopping when a knock came on the door. The husband answered and found two serious men with clipboards doing a survey on bread. On stating that he and his wife ate mainly sliced white, he was immediately harangued with dire stories about its doubtful nutritional value, whilst being simultaneously bombarded with details of the virtues of the brown loaf.
Eventually he agreed to take a leaflet and they went away. His wife then enquired who had held him up for so long, to which he replied, “Well, I’m really not sure, but they didn’t like white bread, and so I think they were two Hovis Witnesses.”
View from the Pew 