A celebration of the Queen

Some imagined royal thoughts for the Platinum Jubilee.

THE ELIZABETHAN LINE

Sing me a song of a lass that has gone, Say could that lass be I? Merry of soul, in days of sun and dappled green,

Loved by my family as Lilibet, not future queen.

But privilege cannot evade tragedy; Came the dark years of World

War II,

After Buckingham Palace was bombed, no one fled.

At least we can look East Enders in the eye now, my mother said.

Then glorious peace; and sister Margaret and I joined the congo-ing crowds.

When my father died so young I had already pledged myself to the people. I didn’t want to be what H G Wells quipped of dear Queen V

A great paperweight who had sat on men’s minds for half a century.

Helen of Troy was famous for the face that launched a thousand ships.

But images of my face, morphing from youth to firm old age,

Have circulated the world for seventy years in millions

Of coins, banknotes, newspapers, TV channels, movies, books; maybe even trillions.

I keep my sense of proportion with tupperware breakfasts. And a sense of fun.

What country other than dear eccentric Britain could have its head of state

Take part in a James Bond spoof and appear to descend, unannounced and mute,

Into the Olympic Stadium in 2012 in a swirl of royal skirts and a parachute?

In my constitutional role I’ve been the canny, impartial adviser to a pack of PMs. From dear Sir Winston and Lord Attlee to Mrs T and Boris;

And have tactfully entertained the great, and people from all life’s stations.

Perhaps my best achievement has been to cherish our Commonwealth of Nations.

Now as the Platinum Jubilee celebrations carry on, I’ll smile with endless pleasure At the kindness and affection that they represent. Some weeks ago in sunshine yellow

I opened London’s new Elizabethan Line, a magnificent feat

Of civil engineering, potent emblem for the future – for us all, not an elite.