For Mrs Griffin.
That’s Mrs Griffin, proudly sporting her diamond engagement ring and wedding band, back in 1986. Proud of her husband.
She used to live in a beautiful farm in Mentmore, Buckinghamshire. She had spent ten years arranging her home just the way she wanted it.
She contracted breast cancer recently, with all the self doubt, worry and anguish that anyone who has been through the misery of cancer will understand. She will have wondered whether she would still be attractive to her husband. She will have wondered whether she would live to see the garden bloom again.
She has spent the past eighteen months listening to the world at large discussing all the times casual acquaintances of her husband alleged that having a beautiful young wife at home was not enough for him – in fact so much ‘not enough’, that he was allegedly prepared to ‘grab wildly’ at any opportunity to touch a breast or any other part of a female anatomy.
She has had to move out of her home, into a nearby bungalow. Still a home that many would aspire to – but not her home. Not her choice. Merely to pay for the legal advice he needed to clear his name.
Every one of those witnesses who were alleging sexual assault by Dave Lee Travis was alleging that it occurred whilst he was married to her. As he has been for 42 years.
I cannot think of a worse accompaniment to breast cancer.
Or a better Valentine’s Day present to her than the verdict last night.
Yet I have not heard one of the strident feminists crawling over Twitter today, urging us to have sympathy ‘with the women involved’, so much as mention her.
So spare a thought for Mrs Griffin, and the ordeal she has faced, and wish her well today – and for the future.