Patrick Jephson

The real Diana was our future Queen

We have lost sight of the real Princess

‘Oh God, not more Diana.’ We’ve all heard it this summer and Di-fatigue is unlikely to be reversed by the official programme of remembrance. The Wembley concert was truly moving in parts, especially the video inserts which recalled Diana at her spontaneous, compassionate best. I’ll admit they reduced me to tears, and not just because here and there I caught glimpses in the background of a younger, slimmer, more idealistic me.

Tears may also be shed in the relatively modest surroundings of the Guards Chapel when on Friday 31 August the Princess is remembered by a carefully vetted congregation. Another cocktail of sentiment, though probably of a brand more acceptable to royal traditionalists.

But neither of these events, for all their good intentions, is likely to change perceptions of the late Princess. They may temporarily make us feel good about ourselves — because on the face of it, we’ve done the right thing by the ghost of Diana. They may even make us reflect comfortably on our royal family’s notable powers of self-preservation — because the ugly mood portrayed in the film The Queen is now safely a decade behind us.

But for sceptics and devotees alike — not to mention the indifferent majority — it’s unlikely that there will be anything new to carry away from this year of memories. Nothing to change our opinions of the woman who for 15 years — let it not be forgotten — was going to be our next queen. Which is ironic, really, because if nothing else, Diana always left you with something new to think about. Even her severest critics could find themselves vulnerable to this unexpected talent.

To take just one example. During my eight years as the Princess’s equerry and private secretary I would often travel to work on the same train as The Spectator columnist Auberon Waugh.

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