Good old Liz!

London is gearing itself up for the Diamond Jubilee this weekend. Everywhere you look, there are flowers, bunting and Union Jacks. Even Victoria Station, normally so drab, dirty and boring, has spruced itself up to some degree with red, white and blue everywhere. There are little triangular union Jacks on bunting strung across the ceiling, massive ones stuck onto the floor and long skinny ones like mediaeval banners hanging from the rafters and down the walls. It all looks rather nice.

For all our cynicism, give us a genuine reason to celebrate something with national pride and us Brits go all out for it. And sixty years on the throne, governing this miserable little island which punches far above its weight due to it’s (possibly glorious, possibly reprehensible) empirical past is certainly an achievement to celebrate.

Although not avidly, I have always been a royalist to some degree and certainly I think it is better than the alternative. And good old Liz is probably the best of the bunch (although I always had a sneaking liking for Princess Margaret with her dissolute lifestyle – I bet she was quite a girl!). She has selflessly put her country first for virtually all her life, kept a fairly low key profile when not on duty and never done anything to embarrass her family. If only the same could be said of her offspring or her spouse.

Although of course, it is their eccentricities and the fact that they don’t give a shit what anyone thinks about them and their archaic set up which in many ways endears the Royals to us. Although other countries have royal families, and I’m sure if you live in those countries you will have your own views on their lives and usefulness, they all seem pretty tame compared to ours. The exception may be the Monegasque royals, who have that whiff of showbiz about them, a little scandal and some much larger than life characters (including Prince Ernst, who apparently has a penchant for peeing over the balcony onto the domestic staff below).

This weekend should certainly be a spectacle, although I have no intention of coming up to London myself; I’d much rather sit in my own lounge in comfort and watch it on the telly. There are events on each day, with probably the highlight being the river pageant on the Thames at 2.45pm on Monday. Apparently there will be around 1,000 boats in a three mile long flotilla with a brand new, sparkly gold barge in the middle with the Royal family on board. All the bridges are closed to traffic, and most of them to pedestrians with only a selected few allowed across by invitation. It should be quite a sight and is the largest river flotilla since Elizabeth I. On Tuesday, there is a parade through the City with the spectacular gold coach (with of course Liz and Phil the Greek inside) on display. No doubt Kate and Wills will be prominent and the following week the glossy magazines will have a field day with massive picture spreads.

I am, definitely, starting to feel the excitement, and am much more inclined to celebrate this event than the Olympics which frankly, are starting to bore me. I like the Queen, and last year we went round Buckingham Palace which was also a bit of a treat (The Hubby had been very cynical about that as a day out, but in the end thoroughly enjoyed it too). I also quite like Wills and Kate, who seem pretty normal and (as much as possible bearing in mind their situation) a grounded young couple. Shame about Charlie boy, but there you go – there’s always one!

So this weekend I will be getting out the Union Jack T-shirt and cheering Liz on with the rest of them. She won’t go on for ever, but while she is there, a steadying and classy act at the helm, we should be grateful and support her!