Bombs, buckets and victory: Ruby Bales looks back on her life as she celebrates 100th birthday
Ruby Bales has been witness to some of history's defining moments.
As she turned 100 on Thursday, Mrs Bales looked back on some of those events.
Like her time as a fire officer in London during Britain's World War II struggle against German incendiary bombs.
And joining crowds outside Buckingham Palace to celebrate VE Day — victory in Europe day, which marked the German surrender.
And her time working at celebrated London florists, Longmans, which gave her an insight into the operation of the business which went on to prepare the future Queen Elizabeth's wedding and coronation bouquets.
Mrs Bales was born in East Ham, London, on May 1, 1925.
While still at school, she joined the war effort, aged 16.
'I was given a tin hat and an arm band,' she said.
She was part of a team of three, equipped with a stirrup pump and a water bucket. 'I carried the buckets of water,' she said.
They went into action during The Blitz, German aerial bombing attacks on British cities in 1940 and 1941.
Her house was damaged when a landmine attached to a parachute dropped on the next block.
'We didn't have a roof for years, we had tarpaulins,' Mrs Bales said. 'We didn't have windows for years.'
At the age of 17 she worked as a book-keeper at Longmans, before training as a comptometrist — using an early mechanical calculator — and then worked at International Harvester, a manufacturer of agricultural machinery.
In 1943 she met Les Bales from Perth. In January 1945 they married, and were among the crowds celebrating VE Day outside the palace on May 8, 1945.
'There were crowds, they were climbing everything,' she said. 'Everyone was cheering, everything was pandemonium.'
In 1946 Mrs and Mrs Bales and baby Keith, (Colin and Glenys would be born in later years) set sail for Perth, and their new life.
Back in London the city celebrated again in 1947 when Princess Elizabeth married Prince Philip at Westminster Abbey.
And Mrs Bales is well aware of the mystery around the day — what became of Queen Elizabeth's wedding bouquet, which had been made by Longmans.
Some photos of the day show the Queen standing without the bouquet even though the bridesmaids carry theirs.
In 2019 The Daily Express reported that because the bouquet — made by Martin Longman — went missing, the royal couple had to interrupt their honeymoon to pose for pictures with the Queen holding a replacement bouquet also made by Mr Longman.
And so from then on all royal brides had two bouquets made, the paper said.
Adding further intrigue, the Royal Family's site says that on the day after the wedding the bouquet was sent back to the abbey, where it was laid on the Tomb of the Unknown Warrior.
On her drive to Westminster Abbey for her coronation in 1953, Queen Elizabeth carried another bouquet made up by Martin Longman.
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The Advertiser
17 hours ago
- The Advertiser
Salvaging stories from the region's watery graveyards
MANY years ago, on today's Kooragang Island, I saw an unusual event. It was the noisy demolition with explosives of old, abandoned wrecks in what was then called 'Rotten Row'. There were a series of loud bangs, swirling smoke and an acrid smell as mud and twisted chunks of metal flew everywhere in this soon-to-be-forgotten maritime graveyard. This tidal channel, an old creek really, was where worn-out old tugs, barges and small punts had been rusting away for decades. With their working days over, the vessels had been floated in there at high tide and abandoned long ago. This was probably in the late 1960s. There may have been up to a dozen obsolete craft in the inlet, probably on Moscheto Island, on an elbow of the Hunter River's south channel to the north-east of the then Newcastle Steelworks. The islands' reclamation scheme was then well under way to create more industrial land on what soon became today's Kooragang. With the derelict port vessels now flattened, the site was soon smothered in sand dredged up and pumped ashore from harbour dredging. These days, this port land is just part of our hidden history, with no traces left to remember where this once familiar ship dumping ground once was. It's a far cry from today's Myall River around Tea Gardens, where the remains of some old vessels of a different sort, surprisingly, still survive. Around Witts Island, for example, eight beached wrecks rotting away have been identified. They include three 'retired' Engel store boats and two droghers (paddlewheel-powered timber cargo punts). But there may have been once 11 boats abandoned locally in river mangroves. But there is a second Port Stephens' watery graveyard nearby, which is often largely overlooked. The site's at the entrance to the Myall River in the shallows of Pindimar (Duckhole) Bay. Here, there were once perhaps six abandoned ship hulks, including the biggest paddle steamer to ever ferry commuters between Sydney and Manly. But more about that shortly. Hulks were towed off Pindimar in the 1940s to serve as timber storage hubs, or floating wharves, awaiting ocean-going ships. This provided a quick turnaround to load timber cargoes and depart Port Stephens, as these larger craft would have had great difficulty entering the Myall River. A launch would then carry waterside workers from Tea Gardens and Hawks Nest out to load the timber from the offshore hulks directly onto the waiting vessels. Timber harvesting in Port Stephens continued for about 130 years, having begun in the 1820s. The peak of the massive timber business seems to have been in the 1920s and 1930s. River transport, however, then gradually declined after the introduction of more inland roads and timber lorries. This Myall River cargo trade though was briefly revived in World War II when petrol rationing forced timber-jinkers off the road from Bulahdelah and elsewhere. Meanwhile, when the days of the timber transfer from hulks to waiting vessels were over, the vessels were abandoned or scuttled. Five Pindimar hulks were finally identified by authors Brian A. Engel, Janis Winn (nee Motum) and John Wark in a local book printed in 2000. They were the steel hulk of the ship Sydney, plus a big, old double-ended Manly ferry called Brighton, a former lighthouse tender called the Governor Musgrave, a wooden steamer named Durobie or Deroby and East Star, a converted trawler. A local district identity, Horace Motum, operated a registered oyster lease on one of the hulks after the former timber trade vessel fell into disuse. When two NSW Heritage marine archaeologists, Tim Smith and David Nutley, officially surveyed the area in 1999, they identified at least three hulks, earlier beached for being hazardous, standing out in the shallows. They could positively identify only the double-ended steamer, Brighton, but also mentioned a sixth vessel, Bingara. Most of the hulks were severely stripped for scrap metal in the 1970s, leaving only rusting shells. The former iron steamer Brighton was once the largest and most luxurious Sydney ferry operating from Circular Quay. It's hard to imagine now, but she was the pride of the Manly ferries. She was 220ft long (67 metres), weighed 417 gross tons and could carry 1200 passengers at a time. Her plush interior was striking. This included velvet seats, polished woodwork and cages of singing canaries. Built in Scotland in 1883 as the Port Jackson, then renamed as Brighton, she's probably one of the best-known hulks in the Tea Gardens area, although now unrecognisable. She was abandoned in the Pindimar Bay scuttling area in 1916. Noted author and Sydney ferry expert, the late Graeme Andrews, said the Brighton made a hazardous 89-day ocean voyage out to Australia in 1883, including running aground three times. Andrews also said the vessel suffered storm damage off Columbo and ran out of fuel as she finally approached Sydney Heads, "obliging her crew to burn her protective wooden ocean cladding - or was that to avoid a timber import tax?" And now comes possibly the oddest story of all the timber storeships - and she's not at Pindimar. She's the former Aussie warship HMAS Psyche, sunk and now broken up on the muddy bottom of Salamander Bay across the waterway. Commissioned in 1899 as the light cruiser HMAS Psyche, she saw service in World War I operating to capture Germany's Pacific colonies. Later, she joined our RAN but was finally sold in 1922. Our once proud, now almost forgotten, cruiser was then dismantled over two years, converted into a mere floating hulk, a timber lighter, used to temporarily store long power poles up at Port Stephens. She'd been there only a few months when a sudden gale caused her to turn turtle and sink at her moorings in December 1924. What followed was later described as the region's biggest and most successful salvage operation for years in what was then 56 feet (16.9 metres) of water off present Corlette. Surprisingly, this one vessel's cargo alone comprised 2044 hardwood poles about 30 to 40 feet (9 to 12 metres) long and about 18 inches in diameter, plus wooden girders, all bound for New Zealand The Newcastle Herald of June 2, 1925, reported that the salvaging of timber was finished, with 1900 poles recovered, with the rest lost forever, buried in deep silt beneath the submerged former warship. MANY years ago, on today's Kooragang Island, I saw an unusual event. It was the noisy demolition with explosives of old, abandoned wrecks in what was then called 'Rotten Row'. There were a series of loud bangs, swirling smoke and an acrid smell as mud and twisted chunks of metal flew everywhere in this soon-to-be-forgotten maritime graveyard. This tidal channel, an old creek really, was where worn-out old tugs, barges and small punts had been rusting away for decades. With their working days over, the vessels had been floated in there at high tide and abandoned long ago. This was probably in the late 1960s. There may have been up to a dozen obsolete craft in the inlet, probably on Moscheto Island, on an elbow of the Hunter River's south channel to the north-east of the then Newcastle Steelworks. The islands' reclamation scheme was then well under way to create more industrial land on what soon became today's Kooragang. With the derelict port vessels now flattened, the site was soon smothered in sand dredged up and pumped ashore from harbour dredging. These days, this port land is just part of our hidden history, with no traces left to remember where this once familiar ship dumping ground once was. It's a far cry from today's Myall River around Tea Gardens, where the remains of some old vessels of a different sort, surprisingly, still survive. Around Witts Island, for example, eight beached wrecks rotting away have been identified. They include three 'retired' Engel store boats and two droghers (paddlewheel-powered timber cargo punts). But there may have been once 11 boats abandoned locally in river mangroves. But there is a second Port Stephens' watery graveyard nearby, which is often largely overlooked. The site's at the entrance to the Myall River in the shallows of Pindimar (Duckhole) Bay. Here, there were once perhaps six abandoned ship hulks, including the biggest paddle steamer to ever ferry commuters between Sydney and Manly. But more about that shortly. Hulks were towed off Pindimar in the 1940s to serve as timber storage hubs, or floating wharves, awaiting ocean-going ships. This provided a quick turnaround to load timber cargoes and depart Port Stephens, as these larger craft would have had great difficulty entering the Myall River. A launch would then carry waterside workers from Tea Gardens and Hawks Nest out to load the timber from the offshore hulks directly onto the waiting vessels. Timber harvesting in Port Stephens continued for about 130 years, having begun in the 1820s. The peak of the massive timber business seems to have been in the 1920s and 1930s. River transport, however, then gradually declined after the introduction of more inland roads and timber lorries. This Myall River cargo trade though was briefly revived in World War II when petrol rationing forced timber-jinkers off the road from Bulahdelah and elsewhere. Meanwhile, when the days of the timber transfer from hulks to waiting vessels were over, the vessels were abandoned or scuttled. Five Pindimar hulks were finally identified by authors Brian A. Engel, Janis Winn (nee Motum) and John Wark in a local book printed in 2000. They were the steel hulk of the ship Sydney, plus a big, old double-ended Manly ferry called Brighton, a former lighthouse tender called the Governor Musgrave, a wooden steamer named Durobie or Deroby and East Star, a converted trawler. A local district identity, Horace Motum, operated a registered oyster lease on one of the hulks after the former timber trade vessel fell into disuse. When two NSW Heritage marine archaeologists, Tim Smith and David Nutley, officially surveyed the area in 1999, they identified at least three hulks, earlier beached for being hazardous, standing out in the shallows. They could positively identify only the double-ended steamer, Brighton, but also mentioned a sixth vessel, Bingara. Most of the hulks were severely stripped for scrap metal in the 1970s, leaving only rusting shells. The former iron steamer Brighton was once the largest and most luxurious Sydney ferry operating from Circular Quay. It's hard to imagine now, but she was the pride of the Manly ferries. She was 220ft long (67 metres), weighed 417 gross tons and could carry 1200 passengers at a time. Her plush interior was striking. This included velvet seats, polished woodwork and cages of singing canaries. Built in Scotland in 1883 as the Port Jackson, then renamed as Brighton, she's probably one of the best-known hulks in the Tea Gardens area, although now unrecognisable. She was abandoned in the Pindimar Bay scuttling area in 1916. Noted author and Sydney ferry expert, the late Graeme Andrews, said the Brighton made a hazardous 89-day ocean voyage out to Australia in 1883, including running aground three times. Andrews also said the vessel suffered storm damage off Columbo and ran out of fuel as she finally approached Sydney Heads, "obliging her crew to burn her protective wooden ocean cladding - or was that to avoid a timber import tax?" And now comes possibly the oddest story of all the timber storeships - and she's not at Pindimar. She's the former Aussie warship HMAS Psyche, sunk and now broken up on the muddy bottom of Salamander Bay across the waterway. Commissioned in 1899 as the light cruiser HMAS Psyche, she saw service in World War I operating to capture Germany's Pacific colonies. Later, she joined our RAN but was finally sold in 1922. Our once proud, now almost forgotten, cruiser was then dismantled over two years, converted into a mere floating hulk, a timber lighter, used to temporarily store long power poles up at Port Stephens. She'd been there only a few months when a sudden gale caused her to turn turtle and sink at her moorings in December 1924. What followed was later described as the region's biggest and most successful salvage operation for years in what was then 56 feet (16.9 metres) of water off present Corlette. Surprisingly, this one vessel's cargo alone comprised 2044 hardwood poles about 30 to 40 feet (9 to 12 metres) long and about 18 inches in diameter, plus wooden girders, all bound for New Zealand The Newcastle Herald of June 2, 1925, reported that the salvaging of timber was finished, with 1900 poles recovered, with the rest lost forever, buried in deep silt beneath the submerged former warship. MANY years ago, on today's Kooragang Island, I saw an unusual event. It was the noisy demolition with explosives of old, abandoned wrecks in what was then called 'Rotten Row'. There were a series of loud bangs, swirling smoke and an acrid smell as mud and twisted chunks of metal flew everywhere in this soon-to-be-forgotten maritime graveyard. This tidal channel, an old creek really, was where worn-out old tugs, barges and small punts had been rusting away for decades. With their working days over, the vessels had been floated in there at high tide and abandoned long ago. This was probably in the late 1960s. There may have been up to a dozen obsolete craft in the inlet, probably on Moscheto Island, on an elbow of the Hunter River's south channel to the north-east of the then Newcastle Steelworks. The islands' reclamation scheme was then well under way to create more industrial land on what soon became today's Kooragang. With the derelict port vessels now flattened, the site was soon smothered in sand dredged up and pumped ashore from harbour dredging. These days, this port land is just part of our hidden history, with no traces left to remember where this once familiar ship dumping ground once was. It's a far cry from today's Myall River around Tea Gardens, where the remains of some old vessels of a different sort, surprisingly, still survive. Around Witts Island, for example, eight beached wrecks rotting away have been identified. They include three 'retired' Engel store boats and two droghers (paddlewheel-powered timber cargo punts). But there may have been once 11 boats abandoned locally in river mangroves. But there is a second Port Stephens' watery graveyard nearby, which is often largely overlooked. The site's at the entrance to the Myall River in the shallows of Pindimar (Duckhole) Bay. Here, there were once perhaps six abandoned ship hulks, including the biggest paddle steamer to ever ferry commuters between Sydney and Manly. But more about that shortly. Hulks were towed off Pindimar in the 1940s to serve as timber storage hubs, or floating wharves, awaiting ocean-going ships. This provided a quick turnaround to load timber cargoes and depart Port Stephens, as these larger craft would have had great difficulty entering the Myall River. A launch would then carry waterside workers from Tea Gardens and Hawks Nest out to load the timber from the offshore hulks directly onto the waiting vessels. Timber harvesting in Port Stephens continued for about 130 years, having begun in the 1820s. The peak of the massive timber business seems to have been in the 1920s and 1930s. River transport, however, then gradually declined after the introduction of more inland roads and timber lorries. This Myall River cargo trade though was briefly revived in World War II when petrol rationing forced timber-jinkers off the road from Bulahdelah and elsewhere. Meanwhile, when the days of the timber transfer from hulks to waiting vessels were over, the vessels were abandoned or scuttled. Five Pindimar hulks were finally identified by authors Brian A. Engel, Janis Winn (nee Motum) and John Wark in a local book printed in 2000. They were the steel hulk of the ship Sydney, plus a big, old double-ended Manly ferry called Brighton, a former lighthouse tender called the Governor Musgrave, a wooden steamer named Durobie or Deroby and East Star, a converted trawler. A local district identity, Horace Motum, operated a registered oyster lease on one of the hulks after the former timber trade vessel fell into disuse. When two NSW Heritage marine archaeologists, Tim Smith and David Nutley, officially surveyed the area in 1999, they identified at least three hulks, earlier beached for being hazardous, standing out in the shallows. They could positively identify only the double-ended steamer, Brighton, but also mentioned a sixth vessel, Bingara. Most of the hulks were severely stripped for scrap metal in the 1970s, leaving only rusting shells. The former iron steamer Brighton was once the largest and most luxurious Sydney ferry operating from Circular Quay. It's hard to imagine now, but she was the pride of the Manly ferries. She was 220ft long (67 metres), weighed 417 gross tons and could carry 1200 passengers at a time. Her plush interior was striking. This included velvet seats, polished woodwork and cages of singing canaries. Built in Scotland in 1883 as the Port Jackson, then renamed as Brighton, she's probably one of the best-known hulks in the Tea Gardens area, although now unrecognisable. She was abandoned in the Pindimar Bay scuttling area in 1916. Noted author and Sydney ferry expert, the late Graeme Andrews, said the Brighton made a hazardous 89-day ocean voyage out to Australia in 1883, including running aground three times. Andrews also said the vessel suffered storm damage off Columbo and ran out of fuel as she finally approached Sydney Heads, "obliging her crew to burn her protective wooden ocean cladding - or was that to avoid a timber import tax?" And now comes possibly the oddest story of all the timber storeships - and she's not at Pindimar. She's the former Aussie warship HMAS Psyche, sunk and now broken up on the muddy bottom of Salamander Bay across the waterway. Commissioned in 1899 as the light cruiser HMAS Psyche, she saw service in World War I operating to capture Germany's Pacific colonies. Later, she joined our RAN but was finally sold in 1922. Our once proud, now almost forgotten, cruiser was then dismantled over two years, converted into a mere floating hulk, a timber lighter, used to temporarily store long power poles up at Port Stephens. She'd been there only a few months when a sudden gale caused her to turn turtle and sink at her moorings in December 1924. What followed was later described as the region's biggest and most successful salvage operation for years in what was then 56 feet (16.9 metres) of water off present Corlette. Surprisingly, this one vessel's cargo alone comprised 2044 hardwood poles about 30 to 40 feet (9 to 12 metres) long and about 18 inches in diameter, plus wooden girders, all bound for New Zealand The Newcastle Herald of June 2, 1925, reported that the salvaging of timber was finished, with 1900 poles recovered, with the rest lost forever, buried in deep silt beneath the submerged former warship. MANY years ago, on today's Kooragang Island, I saw an unusual event. It was the noisy demolition with explosives of old, abandoned wrecks in what was then called 'Rotten Row'. There were a series of loud bangs, swirling smoke and an acrid smell as mud and twisted chunks of metal flew everywhere in this soon-to-be-forgotten maritime graveyard. This tidal channel, an old creek really, was where worn-out old tugs, barges and small punts had been rusting away for decades. With their working days over, the vessels had been floated in there at high tide and abandoned long ago. This was probably in the late 1960s. There may have been up to a dozen obsolete craft in the inlet, probably on Moscheto Island, on an elbow of the Hunter River's south channel to the north-east of the then Newcastle Steelworks. The islands' reclamation scheme was then well under way to create more industrial land on what soon became today's Kooragang. With the derelict port vessels now flattened, the site was soon smothered in sand dredged up and pumped ashore from harbour dredging. These days, this port land is just part of our hidden history, with no traces left to remember where this once familiar ship dumping ground once was. It's a far cry from today's Myall River around Tea Gardens, where the remains of some old vessels of a different sort, surprisingly, still survive. Around Witts Island, for example, eight beached wrecks rotting away have been identified. They include three 'retired' Engel store boats and two droghers (paddlewheel-powered timber cargo punts). But there may have been once 11 boats abandoned locally in river mangroves. But there is a second Port Stephens' watery graveyard nearby, which is often largely overlooked. The site's at the entrance to the Myall River in the shallows of Pindimar (Duckhole) Bay. Here, there were once perhaps six abandoned ship hulks, including the biggest paddle steamer to ever ferry commuters between Sydney and Manly. But more about that shortly. Hulks were towed off Pindimar in the 1940s to serve as timber storage hubs, or floating wharves, awaiting ocean-going ships. This provided a quick turnaround to load timber cargoes and depart Port Stephens, as these larger craft would have had great difficulty entering the Myall River. A launch would then carry waterside workers from Tea Gardens and Hawks Nest out to load the timber from the offshore hulks directly onto the waiting vessels. Timber harvesting in Port Stephens continued for about 130 years, having begun in the 1820s. The peak of the massive timber business seems to have been in the 1920s and 1930s. River transport, however, then gradually declined after the introduction of more inland roads and timber lorries. This Myall River cargo trade though was briefly revived in World War II when petrol rationing forced timber-jinkers off the road from Bulahdelah and elsewhere. Meanwhile, when the days of the timber transfer from hulks to waiting vessels were over, the vessels were abandoned or scuttled. Five Pindimar hulks were finally identified by authors Brian A. Engel, Janis Winn (nee Motum) and John Wark in a local book printed in 2000. They were the steel hulk of the ship Sydney, plus a big, old double-ended Manly ferry called Brighton, a former lighthouse tender called the Governor Musgrave, a wooden steamer named Durobie or Deroby and East Star, a converted trawler. A local district identity, Horace Motum, operated a registered oyster lease on one of the hulks after the former timber trade vessel fell into disuse. When two NSW Heritage marine archaeologists, Tim Smith and David Nutley, officially surveyed the area in 1999, they identified at least three hulks, earlier beached for being hazardous, standing out in the shallows. They could positively identify only the double-ended steamer, Brighton, but also mentioned a sixth vessel, Bingara. Most of the hulks were severely stripped for scrap metal in the 1970s, leaving only rusting shells. The former iron steamer Brighton was once the largest and most luxurious Sydney ferry operating from Circular Quay. It's hard to imagine now, but she was the pride of the Manly ferries. She was 220ft long (67 metres), weighed 417 gross tons and could carry 1200 passengers at a time. Her plush interior was striking. This included velvet seats, polished woodwork and cages of singing canaries. Built in Scotland in 1883 as the Port Jackson, then renamed as Brighton, she's probably one of the best-known hulks in the Tea Gardens area, although now unrecognisable. She was abandoned in the Pindimar Bay scuttling area in 1916. Noted author and Sydney ferry expert, the late Graeme Andrews, said the Brighton made a hazardous 89-day ocean voyage out to Australia in 1883, including running aground three times. Andrews also said the vessel suffered storm damage off Columbo and ran out of fuel as she finally approached Sydney Heads, "obliging her crew to burn her protective wooden ocean cladding - or was that to avoid a timber import tax?" And now comes possibly the oddest story of all the timber storeships - and she's not at Pindimar. She's the former Aussie warship HMAS Psyche, sunk and now broken up on the muddy bottom of Salamander Bay across the waterway. Commissioned in 1899 as the light cruiser HMAS Psyche, she saw service in World War I operating to capture Germany's Pacific colonies. Later, she joined our RAN but was finally sold in 1922. Our once proud, now almost forgotten, cruiser was then dismantled over two years, converted into a mere floating hulk, a timber lighter, used to temporarily store long power poles up at Port Stephens. She'd been there only a few months when a sudden gale caused her to turn turtle and sink at her moorings in December 1924. What followed was later described as the region's biggest and most successful salvage operation for years in what was then 56 feet (16.9 metres) of water off present Corlette. Surprisingly, this one vessel's cargo alone comprised 2044 hardwood poles about 30 to 40 feet (9 to 12 metres) long and about 18 inches in diameter, plus wooden girders, all bound for New Zealand The Newcastle Herald of June 2, 1925, reported that the salvaging of timber was finished, with 1900 poles recovered, with the rest lost forever, buried in deep silt beneath the submerged former warship.
Sky News AU
3 days ago
- Sky News AU
Prince Harry and Meghan Markle reportedly paranoid King Charles is blocking Archie and Lilibet's British passports
Prince Harry and Meghan Markle believe King Charles "blocked" attempts to issue new passports for Archie and Lilibet due to the King's fury over their use of the HRH title, an insider has claimed. The Sussexes legally retain the 'His/Her Royal Highness' titles but are under strict agreement not to use the prestigious honours in their commercial ventures. Nevertheless, references to Meghan as an 'HRH' have recently crept into her social media posts, reportedly infuriating Charles and the Prince of Wales. Archie, 6, and Lilibet, 4, are also legally entitled to the HRH designation. According to a bombshell new report in the Guardian newspaper, the Sussexes applied for new British passports for Prince Archie and Princess Lilibet, which used both the surname Sussex and an HRH designation. It is understood that until 2023, Archie and Lilibet had both US and British passports under the family name Mountbatten-Windsor. However, the new passports never materialised and the Sussexes suspect the King directly blocked the documents because he did not want his grandchildren to have the titles. 'There was clear reluctance to issue passports for the kids,' a source close to the Sussexes told the newspaper on Thursday. The standard wait time for a British passport is about three weeks. After three months without receiving the documents because of 'technical issues', it is understood Harry and Meghan reapplied using an urgent 24-hour passport service. That meeting was cancelled at the last minute due to a 'systems failure.' 'The King hadn't wanted Archie and Lili to carry the titles, most of all the HRH, and the British passports, once created, would be the first and perhaps the only legal proof of their names,' the source said. The mysterious delays are allegedly what prompted Harry to approach his uncle Earl Spencer for his advice on possibly using the Spencer family name. 'Out of sheer exasperation he went to his uncle to effectively say: 'My family are supposed to have the same name and they're stopping that from happening because the kids are legally HRH, so if push comes to shove, if this blows up and they won't let the kids be called Sussex, then can we use Spencer as a surname?,'' the source said. The update comes days after it was first revealed Harry allegedly discussed plans to use his mother's maiden name with his uncle Earl Spencer. 'They had a very amicable conversation, and Spencer advised him against taking such a step," a source told the Daily Mail. It is understood that the legal and logistical challenges were ultimately considered too great and the family appear to have settled on 'Sussex' as a family name. It is still unclear if Archie and Lilibet's British passports ever materialised, but the children have not joined their parents on recent overseas trips, including the recent Invictus Games in Canada. The official Mountbatten-Windsor surname is a combination of the late Queen Elizabeth II's family name and the late Prince Philip's adopted surname. Philip took on the name Mountbatten after becoming a naturalised British citizen and renouncing his Greek and Danish royal titles in 1947.
Sydney Morning Herald
4 days ago
- Sydney Morning Herald
Spellbinding performance does justice to a masterpiece
MUSIC STEPHEN HOUGH PERFORMS MENDELSSOHN Sydney Symphony Orchestra, Sydney Opera House, June 4 ★★★★ Reviewed by PETER MCCALLUM In 2023, Sydney Symphony chief guest conductor, Sir Donald Runnicles, introduced Idyllium, by German composer Detlev Glanert to Sydney audiences alongside the work which shaped it, Brahms' Symphony No. 2. Glanert has written musical reflections, or 'distorting mirrors' as Runnicles described them, on all four of Brahms' symphonies. In this concert, Runnicles brought us Vexierbild: Kontrafaktur mit Brahms in which the themes and energy of Brahms' Symphony No.3 float by like afterimages on the retina. Like Brahms' work, Vexierbild starts assertively, the opening trombone notes quickly rising through the orchestra only to disperse into flitting woodwind fragments. After a restless first section driven by syncopated compound rhythms and images of the defining motives of Brahms' first movement, the music subsides to stasis in which memories of Brahms' third movement hover in the air. The opening returns with some energy until it slows down as though being dragged to a halt, before a quiet close on the third of the chord. It is as though the motive that had animated both Brahms' and Glanert's works had been brought to some kind of glowing finality. The SSO followed this with Brahms' actual Symphony No. 3, in which Runnicles eschewed unduly emphatic articulation and strutting energy in favour of naturally shaped ideas which evolved with Brahms' fluid rhythmic regroupings, extensions and elaborations. After idyllic simplicity from clarinets in the opening of the second movement, the strings, under concertmaster Andrew Haveron, embellished this idea's recurrence with rich warmth, rising to memorable intensity at the climax. The cellos were unrushed as they began the lilting third movement (which had haunted the central section of Glanert's piece), but rather unfolded its charming irregularities of line with floating melancholy. The finale busied itself with subdued energy, the second theme on French horn issuing forth with noble confidence before closing quietly. Loading The first half began with Mendelssohn's Overture, The Hebrides Opus 26 (' Fingal's Cave '), played here not as an image of a lonely place on a hostile sea but more as an inner terrain of thoughtful solitude, which eased warmly when clarinettist Francesco Celata brought back the second theme. Stephen Hough then played the same composer's Piano Concerto No. 1 in G minor, Opus 25, with commanding brilliance and consummate maturity, driving its first movement with stormy determination, its second with comely grace and simple beauty and the third with fleet virtuosity and a lively kick of the heel.
