God Save the Queen – Long Live the King

An air of disbelief reigned over the world on 8. September 2022, as we digested from afar, the newsflash that Queen Elisabeth II had seemingly, unexpectedly died. Inevitably, reason stepped in and reminded us that she was 96 years old and had adhered strictly to her self-proclaimed contract to serve the nation for as long as she lived. Just two days previously, we had seen images of her, albeit extremely frail, inviting Liz Truss to form a new government. In the foreign press, suggestions were voiced that she had taken a fall, as if it were inconceivable, that she might just die of old age. Indeed, according to her death certificate, her passing was attributed to simply that. This supports the theory, that we don’t always need to create explanations for everything in life and death.

At six years of age, I was unaware of the significance, when her father died and she became Queen. But when at seven years of age her Coronation took place, many households, like mine, bought their first television to view the first broadcast of the Coronation. The television was the size of a large fridge, black and white and habitually prone to disruptions in transmission, but the novelty outpaced the inconvenience. Other people who couldn’t afford the box gathered in large numbers in lounges of neighbours throughout the country. We were given the day off school and a “Coronation Mug”, which was subsequently nicked by my brother and presumably exchanged for a packet of Marlborough.

Having left England over 55 years ago, I have had intermittent success in following the Queen and her clan, particularly during my life in the 1970’s in South America on a small island and cut off from international news. As British television became more available in the various locations where I lived, it has been interesting to follow the many highlights of our Monarch. It takes a Brit to understand the function of a Monarchy like ours, and defend it in the face of foreign colleagues and friends who have ridiculed the rituals and traditions. I have watched the marriages of her four children, only to witness the subsequent breakdown in three cases. But Her Majesty kept smiling, as she ploughed her way through her Annus horribilis and the sometimes-sticky mire of adversity among her brood. It was heartening for me, going through a similar fate to realise, that if the Queen can cope, it was okay for me too.

Whenever I visited British shores, I was often amazed at the number of women who copied the Queen’s hairstyle, by default. My British hairdresser used to refer to it as the sausage machine, as most of his older clients by choice, emerged from the salon with a replica of Liz’s symmetrical locks. He was slightly irritated by this, as it curtailed his own impulse to apply a more creative hairstyle, and it didn’t always suit the wearer. But, hey-ho, if it made the ladies feel regal, all was well.

I could never resist a chuckle when the Queen was filmed with her beloved corgis wrapped around her feet, fondly referred to as the ‘moving carpet’ by the late Princess Diana. When I heard that the Queen had recruited an animal psychologist to help with her unruly canines, I was surprised because she was reputed to be a good dog trainer. I once watched footage of her, commanding her dogs to go in a certain direction, just by moving her arm, from quite a distance, and it worked. I tried that on my dog. but he was resistent to my sign language. According to the expert, eleven Corgis that she had at the time strained her faculties. I’m not aware whether it helped them to stop taking chunks out of each other or whether the little tinkers refrained from tinkling on the Palace carpets. I adopted a little rescue Corgi-hybrid myself while living in America and I brought my little chum back to Switzerland with me when my stay in the US expired. He never once soiled the carpets, like his royal relatives in Buckingham Palace.

I had to smile when I heard of her experience with a rather more difficult individual like Nicolae Ceausescu from Romania. He was ill-advisedly invited to the UK by the Foreign Office and was received by her Majesty, teeth grinding. She mischievously spoke later of seeking an escape route during a walk in the Pace gardens, in order to avoid him. His rather unorthodox demise, saved her from a repeat performance with him, but I could imagine her amused expression, while making her detour.

Back in the day I remember speculating when she was sat astride a horse during a long parade, how could she stay seated so long and tranquil on her beloved Equus caballus? More to the point, how did she hold out if she needed to relieve herself? While certain US Presidents trip up the aircraft steps, several times in a row, our Queen never put a foot wrong, at least not to the naked eye. Seventy years on parade in front of the nation and in more recent decades, the world, is a considerable achievement for someone who seldom seemed to have an off day, as we sometimes do. And, in addition to her general composure, she had an immaculate sense of dress, which seemed to become more incredible every year.

We watched segments of her funeral with pride in the unrivalled British choreography of historical significance, while she closed the chapter on her long reign. It was comforting for me to see her transported to her final resting place, in the knowledge that her life’s work will be seamlessly continued with King Charles III. Since his reign is surely transitional, we were all reassured that in the long term, William and Kate are the very best to carry the baton for our children and grandchildren, when the time comes.

Now, it is unquestionably time to bring that chapter to an end and move on to a new era. Wherever we may be, we are grateful and indebted to our Queen for her devoted service and can only say. “Go Forth Upon Thy Journey, Christian Soul”.

Thank you, M’am!

Photo: Pixabay / Peace, Love, Happiness