When will Meghan Markle’s father Thomas button his lip says VANESSA FELTZ
When will Thomas Markle learn to button his lip? Good Lord, the first lesson for all parents of adult children is to put up and shut up.
Shoot your mouth off or offer honest feedback: each way you run the risk of a fate worse than death – being exiled from the company of the people you love most in the world. Meghan’s dad, above, can’t resist making an already excruciating situation worse. He fuels his family discord by embarrassing his daughter and son-in-law in public.
His latest outburst about the Sussexes leaping aboard Sir Elton John’s private plane – saying of the criticism, “They brought this on themselves” – is unnecessary, unhelpful and makes nonsense of his continued insistence that he wants contact with Meghan and his grandson Archie.
If he sincerely wished to revive the relationship he’d keep schtum, make private overtures and try his best not to aggravate tension.
Third time lucky for Anthea?
Go on Anthea! My 2001 first ever Celebrity Big Brother housemate Anthea Turner has been wooed and won at the Trevi Fountain in Rome.
A gentleman named Mark Armstrong has swept her off her feet in just five romance-packed months.
He’s 55-years-old to her 59 so he just might have the energy to match indefatigable Anthea as she powers through her formidable daily routine.
Anthea’s pals say she’s “smitten” with dashing Mr Armstrong (about whom most of us know very little except that they were introduced by Lizzie Cundy and he’s half Italian).
Let’s hope she is.
There’s nothing more delicious than falling head-over-heels and heart-before-head into a warm vat of toe-tingling love just before your 60th birthday.
Let those who insist that, at her vintage, Anthea should know better than to plunge headlong into holy matrimony after a mere smattering of weeks stop their doom-mongering now.
Sure, Anthea’s been up the aisle a couple of times before following a chastening relationship with DJ Bruno Brookes.
Yes, neither of her trips towards connubial bliss ended happily ever after.
Yes, she nicked a chum’s husband and was badly stung when ultimately he betrayed her as callously as he had his first wife.
She’s no stranger to heartache and heartbreak.
The question, of course, is what do the naysayers want Anthea to do?
If it’s to subside into sour-faced spinsterhood, they’d better give up.
It isn’t in her nature to morph into a bitter and twisted man-hater.
She’s naturally sunny.
Even in her darkest days, she has always exuded an air of perky positivity.
She’s been brought up to believe in all the good stuff: true love, soulmates, and teaching the world to sing in perfect harmony.
She’s been badly battered by hard-knock life lessons, but Anthea’s enthusiasm is undimmed.
Surely, eternal optimism is an endearing and rare quality?
No wonder Mr Armstrong wishes to wrap his strong arms around this indomitable survivor with her permanent mega-watt smile.
Frankly, as age kicks in and disappointment takes hold, it’s all too easy to be cynical.
I’ve never subscribed to that defeatist philosophy despite a trough of shattered dreams.
Rocked by a hideous divorce, I wanted my two daughters to believe in love, marriage and Mr Right.
I couldn’t have lived with myself if I’d inflicted my hurt upon them.
To my delight, both are buoyantly married, showing every day that happiness is an option.
So to Anthea: mazel tov, congratulations and a smooth path to the altar.