The Queen’s gift to us means we seldom dwell on her age
Phew! Looks like I can ease up on the round-theclock worrying about Her Majesty.
Anyone else been muttering under their breath: “Not yet. Not yet. We can’t lose you, not yet”? Maybe that’s just me. I exchange anxious texts with a friend, comparing notes on how the Queen looks (too thin) and her likely powers of recovery (indubitable).
“Thank goodness the darling Queen is OK,” jubilant friend texted yesterday. Fingers crossed, she certainly appeared to be her radiant self in a virtual audience with the Korean ambassador. It was her first official engagement since she her hospital stay.
For Queenwatchers, more alarming even than that night in hospital was that she missed the Sunday service at Windsor Castle, and had not been seen walking the dogs. Forget church and state; church and corgi are the twin foundation stones of her reign.
Even by her own standards, 10 engagements in 19 days was going it a bit. She
does need to take it easier and I’m relieved to see she heeded advice to rest rather than attend Cop26 this weekend.
But part of her gift to us is how seldom we dwell on her age. For most 95-yearolds, you’d be making considerable allowances – but the Queen would never want that.
How could you not love her response to the magazine that asked if she would accept its Oldie of the Year award? “Her Majesty,” responded her
assistant private secretary, Tom Laing-baker, “believes you are as old as you feel, as such The Queen does not believe she meets the relevant criteria to be able to accept.”
Take that, you seventysomething whippersnappers! Age cannot wither her. Certainly not that indomitable spirit and the extraordinary sense of duty.
Welcome back, Ma’am. We can all rest easy now.