Sir Compton and Lady Valence shaken from their slumber by a helicopter right above the house shortly after 8.30am today. Hellish, and one's first thought it that some tea leaf is running about and plods on the ground will be directed to apprehend him via the eye in the sky. Not a bit of it, however: this is the last gasp of Goody mania.
Albins, the undertakers who get all the big funerals around here, are sending her off and it is a media helicopter hovering to make the most of the route around Bermondsey and up Tower Bridge Road and then north to Buckhurst Hill.
No sneering for once. She had a hell of a life and a hard dying, and if she meant something more than the whiff of celebrity to the people who watched her funeral go by, fair play.
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