My own tribute to our beloved Queen
THE Queen doesn’t want to make much of a song and dance about the fact that tomorrow she becomes Britain’s longest serving monarch. Despite the fact that she has dedicated her life to providing the rest of us with pomp and circumstance, she isn’t at all keen on show, bringing out the bunting or blowing her own trumpet.
Her Majesty would rather be eating budget cereal from an ancient Tupperware container, striding across the storm- tossed Scottish heather, head- scarf knotted stoutly beneath her chin, or watching something fairly middle of the road on the telly while eating supper off a tray.
I’ve never met the Queen, although I have had the honour of being presented twice to Prince Charles ( jokey, charming), once to Princess Anne ( hilarious, irreverent, brisk) and once, on the hoof, to the Duke of Edinburgh ( downright terrifying) so how can I presume to imagine I have the faintest idea what she might be thinking and feeling?
The answer is that, in common with all her loyal subjects, I imagine I know Her Majesty. Not only do I fondly believe I know her, I know to the very soles of my boots that I admire, esteem and thank her for her hard work, devotion to duty and remarkable knack for remaining understated while being universally feted.
Along with my Uncle Harold and cousin Jeremy I stood in the Mall and waved my flag fervently for her hugely exciting silver jubilee, singing “It’s jubilee year, let’s all give a cheer” to the tune of Mary Hopkin’s Those Were The Days.
We stood there again amid an enthralled throng for her golden jubilee. This time I brought my own children along to swell the crowd. Again we sang our hearts out, gratitude, pride and, yes, I’m going to say it, love almost bursting through our chests.