Thursday, February 12, 2015


It seems impossible to get away from Stephen Fry these days.  It`s not surprising, given his multi-talented career as an actor, author, comedian and presenter.  He seems to be forever on our television screens in one guise or another and I have no doubt that he has many admirers who appreciate the contribution he has made to the culture and entertainment of the nation.   

Now I suppose my problem is that I was brought up in a very different era, one which as I look back to from the vantage point of 75 years, seems so very different in so many ways. I am part of a generation that struggles to come to terms with so much of modern day Britain, but we do our best to keep up.   We try to get used to the ever changing and increasing pace of life, the advance of technology, the social, political and other issues of the day - for us, the times they are a-changing like never before. And whilst it is impossible for me to deny that things ain`t what they used to be, perhaps at least some of those changes could have come about without quite so many  trumpets being blazed and tubs being thumped.

But back to Mr. Fry.   It has been impossible to escape the onslaught of publicity concerning the recent marriage between 57-year old Mr. Fry and his 27 year old partner, Elliott Spencer.   Now in years gone by it may have been socially acceptable for some  reservations to be expressed about arrangements such as this but it seems that these days - especially for rustics like me living away from the parallel universe of the nation`s capital - expressing such reservations might infringe some modern day legislation or at least invite opprobrium to rain down and land me in all sorts of grief that I could do without. 

I don`t know either Mr. Fry or Mr. Spencer so this is not about them personally and I am in no position to offer any comment on their matrimonial arrangement.  It`s none of my business and in fairness to Mr. Fry, he himself had wished that the marriage could have taken place quietly and without any media fuss or intrusion.   But I too also wish it could all have happened quietly, thus sparing my septuagenarian sensitivities from any reservations about the social changes that have brought Mr. Fry and his husband into my consciousness.  In these modern times it seems that any such reservations are those that dare not speak their name, which is as regrettable as when that phrase was first coined.

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