So it is that time when all the country (well except for Prince Charles I guess who must be fed up of waiting for the top job) celebrate the Jubilee of our Madge. It is as if the entire UK population, to the bemusement of foreigners and Americans, like lemmings lose their collective mind and gad around like halfwits joyfully tugging their forelocks and bathing in the aura of someone who has not done a hands turn in 86 years. Anyhoo I actually missed the last one miserable git that I am and have planned to escape to the country for a nice long weekend for this one as well.
But before I clear off I thought I would share one of those moments when my life was touched by ‘Her Majesty’ and just as in the countless others who have recounted these magical moments over the last few weeks I will do the same.
It was many moons ago in the Royal Mews just before Trooping of the Colour in the times when Her Majesty actually used to ride to take the salute. Anyhoo just before such events a few brush up lessons were required and so the Royal Mews riding school was strictly off limits whilst she was twirled around on the lunge and put through her paces. “Now Ma’am could you please put our leg on that lazy slab of useless horse flesh and get it moving” and so on…
…On occasion I used to ride at the Royal Mews with the civil service riding club. One day I bowled up and wandered off to the school to see if any of my friends were riding (well colleagues I was miserable even then and was billy no mates) opened the door and went to enter the school to be greeted by…
…’Oi you have to bloody well clear orf the school is taken you halfwit!!!’
Even though I was being given an earful I felt awestruck and touched by the great glory of the presence in the school on a grey job in the middle of the school – which was in case you are as slow as I am – Her Madge.
So my life has been touched by the presence just as all those idiotic royal reporters or anyone of the five thousand odd guests at one of those garden parties being held right now.
So have one on me I am ‘orf’ to my country seat in the garden.