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Tuesday, July 23, 2013

The Queen and I - my connection to the Royal family.

Obviously as an inhabitant of a British colony, it would be improper to not write a post remarking on today’s birth of the future King of England, Prince No-Name-As-Yet.

I’m sure Katherine will read my blog and the accompanying excellent parenting tips I frequently publish. I wish her and William my hearty congratulations and good luck with it all.

I feel a certain closeness to the Royal family as I’ve actually met the Queen you know! Well… I haven’t in point of fact formally met her, but I’ve looked her directly in the face and she looked back at me.

Way back in medieval times; 1970, Queen Elizabeth II, visited our city to launch the Education Department at our new university. Our primary school was situated on a main thoroughfare which the Queen was required to be driven down on her way to the academic institution.

Can you imagine the exhilarated excitement oozing out of all our little bodies.

The Queen, who we stood in the torturing sun every day on Parade singing our lungs out for God to ‘Save’ was going to cruise by our povo State school. 

I couldn’t believe it.

I eagerly informed my father that the entire school was proposing to line up along the (still unsealed) road and wave to Her Royal Highness and wasn’t it all too thrilling?

“Really?” he scoffed. “I wouldn’t be bothered walking to my front lawn to see her.”

Dad said that about a lot of dignitaries and celebrities who visited our city over the years.

Normie Rowe, Johnny Farnham, the Seekers; even the Pope! I don’t know who he would have walked to the front lawn to see. 

His comment dampened my spirits and I went to school the next day telling everyone how I couldn’t give a fig about the dumb Queen and wouldn’t walk to my front lawn to see her.

This was relayed to my teacher Miss Lang who, from her reaction, happened to be a fanatical royalist.

“Everyone in the school will be lining up and waving flags Pinky, so you’d best keep quiet about your silly opinions,” she sniffed huffily.

The day arrived and we were all lined up along the edge of the road with the Infant School standing in front of the older grades on account of their lack of height.

The black Rolls Royce slowly approached and everyone screamed hysterically like a thousand feverish One Directioners. As the limousine drew closer to me I was overwhelmed with unanticipated Queen-mania.

I shoved the little kids aside and pushed my way to the front screaming in adulation and knocking the tiny tots to the ground.

I clearly saw Queen Elizabeth’s white face staring out the car window at me in alarm, her waving, gloved hand paused for a few seconds in apprehension, her smile was frozen on her face but the light left her eyes. 

She looked frightened.

I remember Miss Lang giving me a blast about pushing the infants over but I didn’t give two hoots.

I saw the Queen and she looked right at me!” I told my mother when I arrived home.

“Yes Pinky,” she sighed indulgently, “I’m sure she looked right at you.”