How Fast Seventy Years Fly By

How Fast Seventy Years Fly By

What a momentous few days these have been. Less than a week ago, on September 6, the Queen was at Balmoral; she bid goodbye to our out-going Prime Minister, Boris Johnson, and we saw her welcoming Liz Truss, shaking hands and asking her to form a new Government. The Queen looked frail, but her smile was as radiant as ever, but then, 48 hours later, on September 8, she was gone, leaving a huge gap in all our lives. 

My family is feeling the loss of the Queen very personally; my first Bob was a Commander Engineer in the Royal Navy, and we enjoyed many happy times at various Naval events and all the official engagements we attended. Our daughter, Wendy, was a young child, and as her dad was senior Naval Officer, she was often chosen to present a bouquet to a member of the Royal family attending a special function; Wendy was never at a loss for words! and always enjoyed these occasions. 

I was a little girl myself in 1952, when King George VI died. We were in Kampala, and I remember hearing the news on old "steam radio," coming over (I think!) either on the home programme or the light programme, on short wave with all the attendant static and interference, followed by sombre music that was played all day. We lived near a hill called Gun Cannon Hill; there was a huge cannon at the top, and I used to run up and down this hill, and climb all over the gun - it was such fun. However, the day after the King died, my Grandma and I were having our usual afternoon kip during the heat of the day, when suddenly there was this terrific BANG!! Even my Grandma, who was stone deaf, heard it, and it gave her such a fright, she nearly fell out of her bed. I’m sure you’ve guessed that the cannon was actually an operational piece of ordnance, and it was being tested in readiness for the 52 gun salute, one for each year of the King’s life.

We don’t like bangs, (I was once told the Queen didn’t like them either, but she still had to attend reviews with all those gun salutes), so when the time came for the cannon to be fired, my Mum made us a picnic, and we drove to Jinja, about 45 miles from Kampala, where we stayed until that part of the ceremony was over. There was no t.v. of course, so we saw the funeral on the newsreel in the cinema. 

When Queen Elizabeth was crowned, again we watched the ceremony on the newsreel at the cinema, and were held spellbound as the colours, the pageantry and pomp unfolded on the screen.  

I was given a miniature toy gold Coronation Coach, complete with horses and guardsmen, and I spent many happy hours playing with it, and imagining what the real thing must have been like, in London.  

And now, all the formal and ceremonial events are televised and available to watch as they happen, by millions of people all over the world. It was wonderful to hear the warm welcome Charles received from the crowd as he arrived at Buckingham Palace with Camilla, and it was clear he was comforted by the outpouring of sympathy and understanding from everyone fortunate enough to be there on such an historic day. 

I remember reading in a newspaper, many years ago, on hearing the roar of welcome greeting his Mother at a function, Charles said, "They'll never do that for me..." Well, he must be comforted and reassured beyond measure to know that "they" have indeed done that for him.  We have all taken him to our hearts, and the swell of love and approval will carry him through these sad and demanding times.