The Queen and I
Fond memories of the times I found myself in the Queen’s company. Sort of.
The Queen died yesterday. The last thing anybody needs to read from me is yet another set of reflections on her historically long reign, her guiding sense of duty, her leadership, warmth and sense of humour.
But when someone passes, it is only natural to reflect on the moments that you shared with that person, however seemingly insignificant. These little stories and anecdotes are certainly the aspect of the news coverage that I’m finding most engaging right now.
And given that every occasion on which I happened to find myself in the immediate vicinity of the Queen somehow involved gardens and/or green spaces, I thought I’d share those memories with you now. (Just to be clear, it’s not like we sat down to dinner or anything. You couldn’t even properly class them as interactions. But they are stories that involve me, and the Queen, in the same place, at the same time, and I will remember them fondly.)
July 2010, Buckingham Palace
Before her retirement from the world of academia, my mother worked at the University of Westminster, lecturing predominantly on Latin American politics. In July 2010, she was invited to represent the university at one of the Queen’s garden parties, a series of annual events that take place on the grounds of Buckingham Palace.
My mum was given a plus-one, and she took me. So we donned our gladdest rags, and joined a select group of (several hundred) garden party-goers lined up at the palace gates. We were led under an archway, across a courtyard, through some inordinately ornate rooms, and finally out into the gardens, where we were let loose to scoff sandwiches, sip tea, and explore.
My wife found an email that I sent her beforehand, in which I relayed that 20,000 sandwiches are apparently consumed at the garden parties every year, and so I would not be going hungry. In hindsight, I did not deserve to be there. I don’t even remember the sandwiches.
This was 12 years ago, and I had no particular appreciation for gardens at the time. Which is a shame, because the Queen – patron of the RHS since her accession in 1952 – was a great lover of plants and gardens, and in hindsight it would have offered an interesting window into her aesthetic sensibilities.
What I do very much remember was at one point being ushered into parallel rows, bunched up cheek-by-jowl with other giddy attendees, and watching, waiting as the Queen, then a sprightly 84-year-old, made her way down the line, every now and then stopping to chat with some pre-selected member of the public. She did not stop to speak with my mum, but we smiled politely – maybe proudly? – at her as she passed. Then we went home.
August 2017, the Aboyne Highland Games
I spent a year working at the UK edition of Men’s Health, and then two more as a contributing editor. During my time as the magazine’s features editor, I introduced a monthly-ish photo essay, in which talk of how to enlarge one’s biceps or harden one’s abdominals was cast aside in favour of more unusual stories of athleticism, strength and endurance. I wrote about modern-day medieval combatants in the US, attended the freediving world championships in Cyprus, and went to Finland to watch some madmen race down the side of a mountain wearing ice skates.
And in August 2017, I headed up to Aboyne, near Aberdeen, for a story about the Highland Games. Well, as I’m sure anyone who has been watching the news coverage will know by now, the Queen was in the habit of spending her summers up at Balmoral, a mere caber’s toss from the village of Aboyne, and its annual festival of Scottish culture and niche sporting challenges.
In the morning, there were rumours that the Queen, then 91, might make an unplanned appearance, what with her being so close and all, and being such a supporter of the local Scots and proponent of their traditions. By lunchtime there was a palpable buzz about the place.
In due course, the sniffer dogs arrived, then the plain clothes officers, and eventually, the convoy of Land Rovers, which rolled their way around the competition grounds before coming to a stop beside a humble marquee, suddenly elevated to the lofty status of Royal Box. Highland dancers, hammer throwers, bag-pipers, all duly lined up, and bowed or curtseyed as appropriate when the Queen stopped for a chinwag.
The atmosphere was electric, and completely unlike that at the Buckingham Palace garden party. Then, we’d been on her turf, in her back garden. We were all grateful to be there, to be let in, to be offered a glimpse into her world. This was different. Here she was, coming down to our level, to our eccentric party full of bonnie wee lasses and good strong lads in kilts. People loved it.
May 2022, RHS Chelsea Flower Show
This year, I attended the Chelsea Flower Show for the first time. By coincidence (I don’t think it was a personal snub), it was also due to be the first year in living memory that the Queen would not be attending.
The Queen’s struggles with mobility were already well publicised, and there was a strong feeling even back then that her days of strolling the showground – or any such event – were behind her. And yet, as I frantically finished typing up my experience of Day 1 at Chelsea, I was unexpectedly and unceremoniously evicted from the press tent. Everyone had to clear the area, immediately, we were told. They didn’t say why, but they didn’t need to.
The Queen, committed to the RHS and Chelsea and gardens and public engagements to the last, turned up. OK, so she wouldn’t be able to walk around the showground, but who needs to walk when you’ve got a souped up golf buggy?
Earlier in the day, I’d seen Carol Klein and Mary Berry snooping around some of the show gardens and chatting to designers. I’d seen the sideways looks they received from the public, the surreptitious photos being snapped on camera phones. There’s no denying that certain people transcend celebrity and become institutions in their own right. Carol Klein is “gardening royalty”. Mary Berry is “TV royalty”. But there could only ever be one queen.
Did you meet the Queen? Did you sit down for dinner? Do you have a story or anecdote featuring HRH QE2 that you’d like to share with the Earthworm community? Here’s your chance.
I just love the creative tribute with pots and flora to the Queen at the Chelsea Flower Show! wow! So fun to hear about your other adventures with her! Yes, they do measure things by "just a caber toss away"! sending love, just Carry On and tend your garden!