Britain’s national treasure trove...
WHAT fun to be greeted at the door of the Accreditation Hub by a sweet young man asking, “Are you a National Treasure?”
There’s no modest way to answer that, especially as it was the official title for us lot, the varied bunch of Treasures from Debbie McGee to Sir Mo Farah, all booked to wave to the crowds from the top of a bus.
And the Treasures were all thrilled to be part of such a unique event.
No matter how celebrated they were, how many red carpets they had trodden, how many Olympic medals they had won, how many records they had sold, or broken, it was like being about to board a bus for our first school trip.
We giggled and gossiped and took selfies of ourselves with other Treasures. It was an unbelievable privilege to be there.
I’d been up at dawn, wrestling with the perennial problem of an English summer: what to wear for a smart outdoor occasion when you’ve no idea if it’ll be warm and sunny or bitterly cold and rainy.
Parading
And in any case, what is the dress code for parading through the streets in an open-top Platinum Jubilee pageant bus?
Red, white and blue seemed appropriate and I do own scarlet thermals and a crimson mackintosh, left over from years spent filming in freezing June weather. I decided a white shirt and blue jeggings would work patriotically.
I was assigned to the “seventies” bus, with national treasures of the decade like Angela Rippon and Lorraine Chase.
It was a momentous decade in my own life with the launch of the consumer show That’s Life, and also my own wedding and the birth of two of my children.
But there was a delightful serendipity about the decades we were assigned. Lovely Bonnie Langford was on the fifties bus and she wasn’t even born then, while Shirley Ballas was on ours, when Strictly wasn’t thought of.
Breakfast was a brilliant chance to people-watch.
Wayne Sleep was in silver brocade posing with Pudsey; Basil Brush was complaining that the Queen had tea with Paddington instead of him; and Anthea Turner gave me helpful tips about tidying my study to look more professional when Zooming.
Since Covid forced us all to be anti-social, it’s been years since I’ve had so many conversations.
We had to arrive at the Conference Centre four hours early because all the streets around Westminster and Buckingham Palace were about to be closed, so we were supplied with salmon salad and makeup, and a sofa with plaster corgis if we needed a few more selfies.
The buses were parked on Horse Guards Parade, a brisk walk from the Conference Centre; thank heavens I’d worn trainers.
I scrambled up the bus stairs as music began to blast out from the speakers.
Best
Angie Rippon said, “The best decade for music” – and Craig Charles agreed.
I preferred the sixties but to admit it would have been disloyal. So with Bowie getting Shirley Ballas grooving, our seventies bus started towards Whitehall.
To say it was travelling at walking pace would be an over
estimation. We were following a troupe of space-hoppers and hula-hoopers, so we couldn’t move faster than they could bounce and twerk.
Which meant that we would frequently slow down to a standstill, smile at the crowd while they smiled back, and keep waving all the while until we moved off again.
And then we began to attempt what the Queen has practised so professionally for 70 years
– waving to happy crowds without letting the smile drop or the wrist flop. It’s harder than it looks.
But when someone in the crowd works out who you are and shouts your name it is oddly rewarding.
And Johnny Ball swears that the Royals sitting in their box waved just at him, which is clearly a skill they have perfected. They know how to make everyone feel they’re waving just for them. We were then bussed back to Buck House hoping the Queen herself might be there so we could sing the National Anthem for her.
To our joy the Royal Standard was flying, and yes, just as Ed Sheeran finished, Her Majesty appeared and the huge crowd crammed around our rostrum sang their hearts out.
She waved, smiled, waved again and was gone. It was her day.
Tears
But as I stood on the rostrum wedged between two Dames, Twiggy and Kelly Holmes, we turned to each other with tears in our eyes. It was clear that she was there just for us.
She knew we wanted the day to end with her smile, and she gave it to us.A memory to treasure.