Land of Hope and Glory

Today was wet and cold and windy and thundery and dismal.

Just as well we had the Julibee pageant to look forward to, courtesy of the satellite here in Spain, also we had our friends for lunch from Scotland, P&R who have a holiday house near us here and who have just bought one of the oldest houses in Scotland with lashings of history.

We sat and watched the spectacle unfold. All that is best about Britain, the sense of occasion, the military precision, the understated organisation, the music, the bands ,the pomp, the ceremony, the spectacle that is London and the pride of something well performed and beautifully executed.

The HRH wee woman and her HRH tall husband both of whom may have been just as happy sitting at home eating digestives and having a nice cup of tea, endured four hours of tossing about on the Thames, never sitting down and apparently never needing a comfort break in a selfless display of public accessibility and service.

I couldn't fault it, it was difficult, even for me, to be cynical about it. No matter what one thinks of the monarchical system, today showed a family drilled into dignity and duty.

I liked the way they all started jigging to the Anchor butter ad tune, even though some were a bit out of tune, I relished the fact that HRH Philip managed to restrain himself from peeing over the side. I suspect that HRH Charles has a not so secret mild lust for Kate (who wouldn't?) and HRH Harry looked a bit spare without any amusement.

The HRH Duchess of Cornwall had a quick word with the HRH Queen about wandering about with her handbag gaping open, "be careful ma in law, you know what sailors are" and that spare looking young courtier just about took HRH ER's hat off with his brolly, but all in all it went off OK.

Missed the pipes and kilts and the bits of the isles that were left out, but this was London's day, I didn't begrudge them a minute, and if the good lord sort to punish them for being English by letting the rain pish doon, then they deserved it.

It turned out that my pal P was involved with his father and grandfather in building Brittania, so actually the day belonged to the Clyde more than the Thames. She would never have got onto that bonnie big boat thing without the aid of the Royal Barge from Brittania.

All in all it went well, I thought. I was waiting for HRH Prince Philip to strip off and leap into the river, or someone to sink or ram a peer as they passed the Houses of Parliament (sorry, pier), but everyone behaved well enough.

So I make no apology for picturing the butchers apron in cushion form, I will now go and rest my weary buttocks, bet HRH's wish they could do the same. Gawd bless you Ma'am.

For the civil service drones, you have two more days to ponder how you can justify doing so little to move forward this great nation of ours, when your HRH Queen sacrifices so much on a sunday afternoon to amuse us all.

PS Just for MamaFi A Very full Tart