Illness is a great leveller. It comes to the rich and the poor, the famous and the invisible, those who have the best treatment on offer and those who have none, and to everyone in between, bringing with it the reminder that the body is frail and we are mortal. Time will run out.
King Charles is a unique symbol and someone who has had to live out his entire life in public, but he is also just a man, an old man who has a diagnosis of cancer. He is like no one else, and like everyone else who was born with nothing and will leave with nothing. And his sons, uniquely privileged men approaching their middle age, are also damaged children and will be children until their father dies and they step on to the front line – and one of them steps up to the throne. The painful spectacle of Harry racing back to see King Charles for a brief visit, and not even meeting his elder brother, is a reminder of how a family can be the saddest and unsafest place. The shadow of cancer, rather than healing that, exposes it.
