October 2022

I’m writing the diary column rather early this month. For various reasons, one being the death of the Queen. I’m striking while the iron is hot, so to speak, as Britain is coming to the end of a prolonged period of mourning. I must admit to having a lifelong weakness for pomp and circumstance, and so have watched the various parades, and have, as usual, admired the military precision involved. Not to mention the pageantry and the colour and sense of history invoked. I’ve also watched the church services, and have appreciated the music, while being annoyed because St Anne’s in Belfast used a new-fangled translation of the Bible for its readings.

My age is showing when I say that I remember the death of King George VI, the Queen’s father. In February 1952 the newspaper headlines screamed THE KING IS DEAD, flags everywhere flew at half-mast, and policemen and footballers wore black armbands. And we had to get used to the word ‘Queen’ instead of ‘King.’ Now we have to get used to the reverse process. And everything is being conducted on a larger scale. As I write, the State funeral is about to start, amid what can only be described as a security nightmare. There are more than ten thousand police on duty in London, which makes me think that today might be a good one for criminals in the provinces. 500 foreign dignitaries have arrived.  

As I write my television set is on and the great and the (possibly) good are filing into Westminster Abbey. I wonder how many of them have done without their breakfast coffee and drinks of water this morning: such services, while moving occasions and stirring spectacles, are protracted, to say the least, and people are expected to be seated in plenty of time. There is over an hour to go before the actual service starts.

Over the last few days, the anti-monarchists have been in full voice. Predictably. They seem quite unable to separate the person from the position, and I think we need to be able to do this, at least occasionally. A while ago I wrote a piece in which I compared the life of the Queen with that of my late mother-in-law. It might seem rather bizarre to compare a life of great privilege with that of an illiterate peasant, but my thoughts were on the matter of choice. What choice did Her Majesty and Aphrodite have? They both had to do their best with the cards they were dealt, and it seems to me they both did their duty as they saw that duty to be.

The other matter I have been pondering is that of luck. It seems to me to play a decisive role in both a constitutional monarchy and a republic. I’ve lived in the Hellenic Republic for many years now, and it has to be said that there have been good presidents and ratty ones. The current one is the first woman to hold the post; she seems popular, and is doing well. And Britain and the Commonwealth were lucky in the monarch that was Elizabeth II. Much has been written about the possibilities had Edward VIII remained on the throne. Now it’s over to Charles III, who has served the longest apprenticeship on record. 

A gap here, but now I’m writing a couple of hours later, having watched the funeral service, which was both beautiful and moving, as most people knew it would be. And the procession both before and after was an example of clockwork precision. The streets were crammed with silent people: so much for the anti-monarchist cry of ‘enforced mourning.’ There must be many people, both royals and organisers, who will be glad when today is over.

To change tack: further news from Warsaw, where my second son and his family have recently settled. Both my grandsons have adjusted well to their separate international schools so far. They are of course finding them very different from the Greek state schools they have attended until now, but are interested in the novelty and in the general set-ups. The younger one, aged fourteen, is one of three students in his class who has passed a specific French test. This means he will study history in French, and he is pleased about that. The rest of us are impressed!

Here in Greece school started last week: it was my elder granddaughter’s first day, and she was very nervous for quite a while beforehand. This surprised me, but it seems a drive towards perfectionism made her fear she could not measure up. Despite the fact that she virtually taught herself to read during her time at kindergarten. However, it took only half an hour for her to settle down and decide to like her teacher, a man. Progress has been made in some areas: it’s not so long ago that only women taught what used to be known as the infant classes. 

Autumn progresses, but sun-starved Northern Europeans are still enjoying themselves in balmy weather, which may, of course, change very suddenly.