It has been one of those weeks when the news feels louder than usual. Smartphones and Meta have been everywhere again. Mark Zuckerberg, the American businessman who co-founded Facebook and now runs its parent company, has been in court in the United States answering claims that some of his apps were designed to be addictive. He denies that strongly.
I confess that I sometimes struggle to keep up with all of it. Technology moves so fast. Even so, I feel I should put in a small good word for it.
We were reminded of this this week.
A dear friend of ours, John Barlow, turned eighty. Chrissie, his wife, worked with Sally years ago, and somehow, nearly half a century later, they remain as close as ever. She is Alex’s godmother.
Sally is the godmother to their second son. I am the godfather of their first. John, in turn, is godfather to Clem. These things matter. We try to take them seriously, even if memory occasionally plays tricks on me about who christened whom and when.
Chrissie had the bright idea of asking us all to record birthday messages on our phones. We did our best, speaking into the little camera as if John were sitting opposite us.
Their youngest son edited the clips together. We are told it was a triumph. I rather like that modern technology allowed a group of slightly creaky godparents and old friends, scattered about the place, to gather in one room on a screen. Not bad, Mark. We once stayed with John.
He is American by birth, his mother a former New York Times journalist. Conversation around his table was never dull. Long discussions about journalism, theatre and politics would stretch late into the evening. John himself is a retired television director, though theatre was always his first love.
He directed regularly here in France and in Eastern Europe. After leaving UK television, he taught at Southampton’s Solent University, to the great benefit of his students. I remember the enthusiasm with which they spoke of him.
On a lighter note, we have also enjoyed the literal ups and downs of the Winter Olympics in Italy on television. My favourite moment was when a wolf wandered onto the ski slopes, looking as surprised as the skiers. We laughed, too, when heavy snow delayed events. It is winter, after all.
Alastair Stewart: My own father had dementia. That really hit home this week
| GB NEWSThe week’s most dramatic news came with the report of a dawn raid on Andrew Mountbatten Windsor at his temporary home on the Sandringham Estate in Norfolk.
His former residence, Royal Lodge in Windsor, was also searched. It brought to mind the story of King Charles the First marching into the House of Commons to arrest his opponents, only to discover they had fled. “I see the birds have flown,” he said.
That episode, I am told, is why Black Rod still bangs on the Commons door before the Monarch enters. I find it hard to imagine anyone leaving incriminating evidence lying around, though others have been less charitable.
Dickie Arbiter, the former royal press spokesman, remarked that Andrew is not known for his brilliance. The story will run and run. Reporters will have to tread carefully, and so far, many have.
The BBC also carried an item about people with dementia carrying identification or wearing bracelets in case they wander. That struck home. My own father, who had dementia, once wandered off in Windsor.
Thames Valley Police found him and called my brother. We were immensely grateful. It is a comfort to know such practical measures exist.
Finally, Sir Jim Ratcliffe apologised for remarks about colonisation after criticism from the Prime Minister. Politics rolls on, as it always does. I sometimes lose the thread, but I try to keep watching, listening and, when I can, making sense of it all.