I do not want to sound irreverent or disrespectful but I am queened-out! I have had a surfeit of ceremony, soldiers, sailors, church services and the words of mourning grateful subjects. I feel like I have just eaten far too much at a wonderful banquet.
That multitude and variety of soldiers, and where on earth did all those very fancy uniforms come from? How much red serge, gold braid, plumes and bearskin hats can be managed? Acres of them apparently. It was all brought out and I did not see one moth hole.
I did discover some very interesting-looking troops. Like the Royal Company of Archers. They were flanking the coffin from Westminster Abbey. I could not miss their hats: a sort of beret, actually a Balmoral bonnet with, sticking straight up, a very long eagle feather. I think the person with two feathers must be the chief of the clan! And they carry a tall staff. I have learnt that they are a ceremonial unit of the King’s bodyguards for Scotland. They looked impressive.
And thus it goes, the details, the tradition, the perfect turn-out. It is amazing and I am exhausted by all this perfection. I tried to watch a recording of a parade with my small grandchildren, but they were unimpressed and not very interested. “Yes, Grandy, we had a queen, now we have a King.” I guess the drama of their video games is more impressive. A pity.
Last evening at a church service I got to sing God Save the King – full-bore. I have now moved on and I am going on a little trip and will be a bit absent from blog-land for a few weeks. But I will return.