It seems that a quarter of a century has passed without the “people’s princess” and without my knowledge. I was embarrassed when television, radio and newspaper reminded me. I convinced my wife that I knew.
– Twenty-five years without Diana of Wales! I shouted, as I collapsed onto the sofa with a defeated expression.
-What do you say?
-Twenty-five years without him lady di. I don’t know how we survived his loss.
-Did you take the medicine? -just asked.
It turns out that maybe people don’t care about this anniversary. But if so, why was it everywhere? I’m a messy person, frankly, I don’t know if I should move. I called my brother on the phone.
-How are you, Richard? -to say.
-Okay here, how about you?
– Honestly, I’m a little impressed.
-Why?
-Why? Because of the people’s princess.
-Which princess, which town? -Question.
Diana of Wales, man!
-What happened to him?
It’s been 25 years since his death.
My brother keeps silent, then calls his wife and whispers to her about me. Of course I hang up and go to the bar where the bartender asks if I’m okay.
-And you? I’ll tell him.
-I do. Why? Why?
After I stopped reminding him of the town princess, I went to the furthest table with my gin and tonic as I tried to imagine the closing meeting of a news show where someone announced it was Lady Di’s death anniversary.
-Well, you have to get that out of your head -says the director (or director, the damn general) very seriously.
And so, we gradually select the informative material that really interests us.