Jubilee junket along the River Thames with Le Boat
A journey fit for a queen and a right royal way to push the boat
As Jubilee junkets go this was a right royal way to push the boat out. Cruising along the mighty Thames to park (sorry, moor) our stately white craft just across the river from Her Majesty’s home, in the shadow on the towering battlements of Windsor Castle, within cheering distance of a monarch celebrating her 70 years reign.
We came ready to join in the celebrations, to wave paper flags and wear silly paper specs and eat dainties off Union Flag napkins. I even bought a souvenir tea towel at the Castle gift shop for the princely sum of a tenner _ the same fee we paid to moor opposite Her Indoors.
A trip on our Le Boat hired vessel is the ultimate way to mark this platinum anniversary if you need an excuse to miss the enforced jollity of a street party with neighbours you’ve spent the last few years avoiding.
We were travelling in style and relative luxury: four double bedrooms with en-suite facilities (and thankfully flushing loos), a spacious galley for cooking hearty breakfasts and strong brews, a gleaming top deck for barbecues, sundowners and bird watching or even a spot of sunbathing between fastening ropes to bollards as we navigated locks.
A mix of boaters _ keen amateurs like me and more experienced sailors who knew their aft from their foreward _ were given a run-down on the workings of our boat, the generator that would provide hot water for showers, the bow thruster that moved us sideways for easy mooring and manoeuvring, how to pass other river users. S L O W was the order of the day. This was to be a relaxing, stress-free trip, gently chugging our way from Penton Hook in Chertsey, Surrey, to visit the Queen’s home in Berkshire.
She has been in residence there throughout Covid (catching it once) and bedevilled by what the Palace calls ‘episodic mobility problems.’
We had a few of those ourselves as we approached locks and got shouted at by lock keepers. One looked suspiciously like a bewhiskered Captain Birdseye and, in solidarity with his French counterparts, marched off for his hour’s lunch break on the stroke of one. Most were mysteriously called Martin. Another was a volunteer who, when not lock-keeping, painted and played golf.
One Martin carried a reel of Sellotape. ‘You never know when it might be useful if you get a hole in your boat,’ he confided.
Thankfully we didn’t. We thanked our guiding stars that our vessel, built for comfort at 13.25m x 4.1m, was liberally necklaced with royal blue fenders that gave us the appearance of a dodgem boat. Untidy, but necessary for a selfsteering bunch of novices. I took my turn at the helm, and found it all too easy to over-steer then correct in a panic, weaving a drunken course till I discovered the knack. Mother duck and her fluffy brood seemed relieved to see the back of me.
Four locks after Chertsey we reached our royal goal to join in the Jubilee fun. First event was the Gallop Through History which Her Majesty would attend a few days later, her first public outing of the Jubilee. She’d missed the State Opening of Parliament, but nothing would keep her from her beloved horses.
She was escorted by the Royal Household Cavalry to an arena in the grounds of the Royal Windsor Horse Show to be met by a standing ovation before two hours of equine extravaganza: the King’s Troop, Royal Horse Artillery, the Royal Cavalry of Oman (99 horses flown to Britain in two planes and no passenger locator forms to their name), spectacular riders from Azerbaijan. A thousand international performers including Dame Helen Mirren as Queen Elizabeth I, Tom
Cruise, Alan Titchmarsh, Paul Schofield were all signed up for the ITV special.
It was a romp of pomp and pageantry, with military music and a bizarre mix of Asian dancing, a steel band and racing gun carriages. But the horses, from mini fell ponies to massive steeds, worked their magic for Her Maj.
Before we saw the show we’d dined at the Eton Mess, a rather pretentious self-styled boutique hotel, restaurant and cocktail bar. The manager boasted the most extensive range of cocktails, including an Eton Mess of vanilla vodka, dry strawberries, cream and meringues.
I resisted that temptation to indulge in a desert of the same name. But instead of strawberries the chef chose rhubarb, which turned the Mess into, well, a mess. What would Old Etonian Boris make of that? Don’t mess with a classic would be my message.
Dinner was redeemed by a starter of tender grilled octopus followed by Devonshire duck, red cabbage and mash with port jus. Jus delicious.
A short walk through the town and we were home to our floating home - still tightly tethered to the bank by ropes secured to metal stakes thanks to our mallet wielding crew. A night cap ensured a good night’s sleep, lulled by gentle rocking.
We woke to the splash of early morning rowers and the beating wings of swans on take off, a pleasant change from the incessant drone of aircraft departing Heathrow.
We breakfasted on tomatoes on fried bread with scrambled eggs that refused to be an omelette. The sausages refused to brown so we topped up with banana. Google assured us swans could eat banana, so our insistent beggar had his share too.
On Sunday June 5 it’s WindIt sor’s Big Lunch with tables planned to run from Cambridge Gate down the Long Walk. If all the tables are full you can set down your own picnic on the grass. And again, big screens will show events in London.
No trip to the town would be complete without a visit to the magnificent castle, the oldest and largest occupied castle in the world. Founded by William the Conqueror in the 11th Century it’s open to visitors throughout the year, but booking is a must.
At last the charming Queen Mary’s Dolls’ House is back on view. Built in the mid-1920s by Sir Edwin Lutyens it contains 1500 contributions from artists and artisans who have crafted in miniature everything from bottles of champagne and a piano to a coal scuttle and motorbike.
even has electricity, hot water and working lifts. Hopefully the energy bills will also be mini.
We set forth for a short cruise to where another chunk of history awaited us at Runnymede, site of the sealing of the Magna Carta in 1215, so enshrining our rights and freedoms. Pastures of clover and buttercups, sculptures glinting in the sunshine, a gentle climb to a monument to the assassinated American President John F. Kennedy _ this is how I like to explore history.
And mooring at the Runnymede on Thames Hotel and Spa for a splendid buffet lunch, and at the friendly Swan pub at Staines for supper on our homeward cruise was just the icing on the Jubilee cake.
It was a journey fit for a Queen.
‘It was a romp of pomp and pageantry’