A Queen departs

I returned on Monday evening to find the country still mesmerized by the pageantry of a faded institution that had survived on the popularity of the Queen, whose coffin 250,000 had visited in 10 mile long queues. I watched the whole mourning ceremony relived on evening television, including the silent funeral cortege of that morning from Westminster to Windsor. Conceptually it was amazing, with extras and costumes that any theatrical producer would have died for. I can marvel at that array of colour with white plumes, black bearskins, scarlet uniforms, red and yellow standards, a purple catafalque, silver breastplates and the slow deliberate tramp, tramp of marching boots and clatter of horses' hooves on cobblestones. These signify the majesty and the mystique making up the soft power, while the hard power travelled in coaches, with kings and prime ministers, monsters and heroes, huddled like penned tourists, driven to their appointed places on the side benches of the Abbey. There was the US President, arriving late, sitting on a rear bench in the Abbey behind President Andrzej Duda. 

The public came in their thousands and treated King Charles III with sympathy and understanding, giving him the benefit of the doubt that he will really no longer interfere in day to day policy. The presence of William and Kate, and young Prince George and Princess Charlotte were promises for the future; Prince Andrew and Prince Harry and Megan were the question marks about the future. With Charles, as Diana once said, "the jury is out". We will receive enough evidence in the next few years to decide whether the monarchy should have a future. But Charles or Camilla have but to make one serious mistake, one undiplomatic comment out of place, one more petulant complaint about a leaky pen, one more personal (or worse, financial) scandal, and the magic will fail, and the debate of whether the tax payer is getting a right deal for his/her money begins again. Three strikes, and they could be out!

As I chatted to colleagues at my work place next day, all of them oblivious to world affairs, but nearly all of whom had watched the proceedings on television, I noticed that what made a lasting impression on them were the Queen's black horse and the corgis, expectant, sad, deprived of their royal companion for ever. I mentioned that corgis were now the responsibility of Prince Andrew. "Yeah, well he can clear up the shit!" commented one of them. Everyone has their own perspective.

Even Albina, who does not leave the flat for any reason other than a hospital visit or the supermarket, was induced by her friend Wanda to watch the royal progress along the Great West Road. That makes me so pleased. It was her opportunity to participate in a historic event, and she took it.