Showing posts with label Trooping The Colour. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Trooping The Colour. Show all posts

Saturday, June 16, 2007

Happy Birthday, Your Majesty!


One of my neighbours [Her Majesty and I are merely separated by Buckingham Gate] celebrates her birthday in a very public way. During the week the usual channels supplied me with a ticket to enable my attendance at the spectacle on Horse Guards Parade this morning. As you know, I rather like uniforms! I imagine there were a few uncrowned queens present (not just spectators) and perhaps even a few divas on the parade ground? Well, I thought I had a fairly decent seat. I arrived punctually. There were four empty spaces adjacent to me (I was on the end of the front row in the block). I thought, what a waste. Maybe somebody slept in? A rather pompous looking fellow came along to do a "recce" and just before the ceremony began a couple of awkward looking chaps (wired up) came along and asked me to stand aside a second. I felt slightly miffed that I was going to be "squashed in" by these latecomers and bang goes my leg room! Then suddenly I spotted The Lady in-tow. I thought I recognised her. Ah yes, my old friend, Lady Thatcher. So there you are, Maggie sat next to me! Maggie, The Queen and Me. [For those of you who occasionally get a little confused, Maggie is the one on the right!]. The similar apparel* reminds one of the occasion when the Private Secretary at Number Ten telephoned the Private Secretary at BP to suggest that it might be a good idea to exchange notes about dress sense for certain public occasions to avoid a "clash" or the possibility of the two dames appearing at the same event similarly (not scantily - Heaven forbid!) clad. Her Majesty's "man" replied icily "Her Majesty never notices what other people are wearing". Quite so.
The perk to having a former Prime Minister seated next to you is that you become the second person to take leave of Horse Guards; with the military top brass, admirals, generals and the like, trailing behind. As I stepped into Whitehall behind Lady Thatcher, where the traffic had stopped to facilitate her, I heard someone mutter, with a hint of emotion; "She's still the real Prime Minister, you know". My sentiments exactly. Good old Maggie. [11 days to go, TB].
*I have a rather "exotic" hat that I contemplated wearing today. My father would have been furious and I resisted. The Hat will be the subject of a future posting!