Did she leave a note?
Note pinned to the fridge door: “Jolly good party. Pity you weren’t home”.
Things don’t actually happen like that, but they should. While our GG is over in China, doing whatever the regal rep does on a road trip, her mentor (I hate to think that the woman has a bossy bone in her body), the real queen, stopped by. And had a short reception for 500 complete strangers in the back yard. Here’s hoping that someone picked up the napkins and cuke sandwiches.
Another royal visit underway. Except for that time where her car raced by me on the way to the beach in Brackley, I’ve never seen the woman. I’ll have to guess about what she’s like in person, based on a collection of grimy pennies in a jar. That’s the rub of a monarchy; no need to do anything other than sing a song to her honour from time to time. And the “long live” thing actually works.
We were musing about her successor the other afternoon. In the best of times, she’d just keep on doing whatever she does for another couple of decades. By that time, the son and the grandson might find real jobs. Won’t happen…
I’m off for four in a row. The antipasto for vacation, if you will. The weather is frightful right now, proof that camping requires a trip down east. I actually got off one bus and waited twenty minutes for a different route, rather than fight the wind and the rain for fifteen minutes. In reflection, a half hour to get home “almost dry”.
