Summer arrived in the nick of time for this afternoon's tea party at Buckingham Palace. Don't ask me what I was doing there, but with a love of tea and cake and a hope for a (second) meeting with my-husband-to-be, Harry, it was with a skip in my stockinged step that I left the office and headed for Grosvenor Gate.
It was an amazing afternoon, so completely British and quietly classic - crowds of people hushed by the presence of royalty, with only the brass band(s) breaking the calm with their blustery show tunes. Aside from a few slightly more garish prints on ladies dresses, it could have been 1952.
The tea itself was unsurprisingly delicious - cucumber sandwiches with mint, little almond cakes topped with cream and raspberries and nutty fruit cake all taken on the startlingly green lawn before the Palace.
The Queen looked lovely in a full peach ensemble. She was escorted through the crowds of people, speaking to a selected few. My mother was adamant that I be presented, her mind set, her mission unstoppable. So out came the snap taken of me giving flowers to the Queen aged 3 and, cringe though I did, we were soon put in place to meet not HM, but HRH Prince Philip.
What the above photo doesn't show, is a cross little girl two minutes later when the Queen, having smiled and thanked me, turned away before I'd done my curtsy. Bear in mind, there had been weeks of practice for this moment with my mum - I wasn't letting it go. I grabbed HM's skirt, turned her round, and bloody well did my curtsy.
Suffice to say, it wasn't quite the approach I took today and after a 'Your Royal Highness' and a painfully awkward leg bend (who has curtsied since baby ballet days?) we exchanged a few words before mum and I were ushered back into the crowd.
After a turn about the gardens and another cup of tea we stepped back out on the streets of London, just on the other side of the gates to the Palace but a million miles away.
Now I just need to get to Harry... maybe his Gramps will put in a good word?
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| Sadly I can share few snaps of interest as my mother has banned me, claiming that 'it's just not what 'one' does'. But here she is, looking charming in the rose gardens |
It was an amazing afternoon, so completely British and quietly classic - crowds of people hushed by the presence of royalty, with only the brass band(s) breaking the calm with their blustery show tunes. Aside from a few slightly more garish prints on ladies dresses, it could have been 1952.
The tea itself was unsurprisingly delicious - cucumber sandwiches with mint, little almond cakes topped with cream and raspberries and nutty fruit cake all taken on the startlingly green lawn before the Palace.
The Queen looked lovely in a full peach ensemble. She was escorted through the crowds of people, speaking to a selected few. My mother was adamant that I be presented, her mind set, her mission unstoppable. So out came the snap taken of me giving flowers to the Queen aged 3 and, cringe though I did, we were soon put in place to meet not HM, but HRH Prince Philip.
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| Nigel Luckhurst 1990 |
What the above photo doesn't show, is a cross little girl two minutes later when the Queen, having smiled and thanked me, turned away before I'd done my curtsy. Bear in mind, there had been weeks of practice for this moment with my mum - I wasn't letting it go. I grabbed HM's skirt, turned her round, and bloody well did my curtsy.
Suffice to say, it wasn't quite the approach I took today and after a 'Your Royal Highness' and a painfully awkward leg bend (who has curtsied since baby ballet days?) we exchanged a few words before mum and I were ushered back into the crowd.
After a turn about the gardens and another cup of tea we stepped back out on the streets of London, just on the other side of the gates to the Palace but a million miles away.
Now I just need to get to Harry... maybe his Gramps will put in a good word?
Shame he had to send his Gramps as the go-between!
ReplyDeleteYour Mum looks a super elegant lady ...