Queen Elizabeth II – derrickjknight

Unforgettable

Today we tuned into BBC’s broadcast of the memorably, monumentally, reverential funeral service, bearing some of her own touches; and subsequent procession of the coffin of Queen Elizabeth II through the central London streets I know so well yet have never before experienced, albeit through the television screen, conveying such awesome silence but for the steady drumbeat timing the respectful, restrained, marching of so many dignitaries and others moving in measured unison; every individual participant and assembled group – such as the phalanx of naval personnel in unwavering blocks who replaced the horses which would normally have drawn the massive gun-carriage carrying the coffin – so perfectly choreographed, made their own contribution to the flawless production transmitted around the world in far more an immediate and widespread manner than would be possible for my blog.

At Hyde Park Corner the coffin was gently laid into the hearse which would convey the Queen’s body by roads lined with humble humanity to her final resting place, once more alongside her Consort, Prince Philip, in Windsor Castle’s St George’s Chapel

The escorting convoy was led by a trio of motorcyclists.

This evening we dined on succulent soft centred haddock fishcakes, creamy mashed potatoes, piquant cauliflower cheese, and crunchy carrots. with which Jackie drank Hoegaarden and I drank Cariñena Monte Plogar Gran Reserva 2016. Elowen permitting, Flo and Dillon will eat later.

A Knight’s Tale (28: Three Monarchs In Quick Succession)

In our classroom on the morning of 6th February 1952 we witnessed the dragon’s tears. Miss Bryant was an extremely fearsome headmistress. Hitherto the only tears associated with her were those of pupils who were in for it. As I have previously indicated, being sent to Miss Bryant was to be avoided at all costs. This time, Miss Bryant came to us. That in itself was an event, as she toured the school with the dreadful news. This calm, contained, diminutive, yet terrifying woman burst into our classroom in tears to announce: ‘The king is dead!’.

I can assure you there is no more effective way to imprint an image for life on a child’s memory. It is a sobering thought that most people alive today have known no other UK monarch than Queen Elizabeth II; and that when she ascended the throne in 1953, most of her subjects did not have a television.

Mr. and Mrs. Brown lived next door. In sixteen years I don’t remember ever having seen either of them. I think there was a disability involved. Mr. Brown made Elizabeth a doll called Minnehaha. It was the Browns’ television, I believe, which was responsible for my teenage fantasies. No, not those fantasies. In the twilight moments between being awake and asleep, I would hear the three discordant notes which Mum said were coming from their television. I believe it was a closing down signal. This led me to thinking how wonderful it would be if you could have a picture frame on your wall and a gadget that could tune in to and display in this any of the films currently being shown on any of the four cinemas Wimbledon then boasted. We didn’t have a television and the only one I had ever seen was a small wooden cabinet bearing a postage stamp sized screen. This was for the occasion of the coronation on 2nd June 1953 when those of us at school who didn’t have a television were billeted with those who did. Being a tall lad I was seated at the back from whence I peered at a tiny black and white haze.

Photo from https://www.historic-uk.com/HistoryUK/HistoryofBritain/The-Coronation-1953/

This digitally remastered image, in its wide format, sharper focus, and without parallel lines travelling up or down it, would not have been possible on the little square screen of that early TV; but I do remember a hazy something like the Queen’s head.

Little did I imagine, in that teenage dream world, what my grandchildren can now hold in the palms of their hands.

In July 2013 Hawes & Curtis in Jermyn Street, hoping to attract prospective customers to take advantage of their large reductions, featured King Edward VIII and Mrs. Simpson. In his brief tenure this playboy king had provoked a constitutional crisis in 1936 by his determination to marry his twice divorced lover. In that bygone age this was acceptable neither to the Church nor the State – although 50 years on, their image was thought by this West End outfitters to be likely to draw buyers for goods past their sell-by date. Edward, as king, was not allowed to marry his Wallis, and therefore chose to abdicate, on December 11th, and thrust his younger brother onto centre stage. A reluctant and shy monarch, King George VI, despite a dreadful stutter, with his wife Elizabeth, saw us nobly through the war years and died at the age of 56, making way for our current long-serving queen. Colin Firth was awarded a well earned Oscar for his spellbinding performance in the 2010 film ‘The King’s Speech’ which follows King George’s struggles to find his voice.

Queen Elizabeth II was, at 25, even younger than had been her father when she found herself at the helm.

My First TV Viewing

The stone, sand, and cement for the greenhouse base was delivered today. Shrubs on the Back Drive beyond the five-barred gate have so encroached upon the path that, with the added problem of branches from a neighbour’s fir tree, the delivery man was unable to bring in the materials. He called his base to order a smaller truck, and I cut back the shrubbery, the clippings of which filled an orange bag. Although the smaller vehicle was able to make the delivery, I sought permission from the son of Bev and John at number 5 Downton Lane for us to remove a couple of branches. There was no problem with that.

Afterwards, making use of ‘The Dragon’s Tears’, ‘Prescience’, and ‘The Abdication’, I drafted more of ‘A Knight’s Tale’.

My photograph is taken from the third of these posts,

and is supplemented by King George VI from The Daily Mail,

and Queen Elizabeth II from BBC News.

I fancied simple fare for dinner this evening. Scrambled eggs on toast followed by a Sicilian lemon tart fitted the bill.

70 Years On

Jackie spent the morning planting the pansies and spring bulbs in place of the ficus.

The bamboo in the Oval Bed tends to send tentacles under the rock border and into the gravel path. At the first sign of a sucker piercing the shingle, excavation has to be carried out. This was my task.

This afternoon, Jackie drove us to Walkford for Daphne and Ray Salinger’s Platinum Anniversary party. Apart from one picture, I recorded the event in Black and White, which seemed appropriate.

Here, Ray examines the album Ron had made up largely from the prints I had produced.

He then posed with his wife.

Over lunch They both looked again at the historic photos, the album here held by Donna.

The best way of approaching the splendidly plentiful buffet was to heap your plate with those selections you could fit onto it, then return for seconds of the other dishes.

The day was warm and sunny enough for many guests, entertained by Ben, a professional guitarist, to sit outside.

The couple’s great niece, her husband, her father-in-law and a great great niece enjoyed the sunshine,

whilst Helen enjoyed great granddaughter Imogen.

Ron made a speech in honour of his parents,

and Ray gave a witty reply.

He and Daphne then cut the cake made by Shelly,

who helped her mother-in-law slice it.

Finally, all assembled for group photographs.

And the one colour picture?

Here it is.

This evening I watched the second half of the South Africa v. Japan World Cup rugby match, and the whole of France v. Italy. In deference to anyone yet to watch a recorded version, I will not give the results, but I will say that the last five minutes of the first of these games was as thrilling as any finish I have seen.