THANK YOU
If my blog was a Hollywood drama from the 50s, a voice reminiscent of
Burgess Meredith’s Penguin in the Batman TV series would now say, ‘we innerup
this programme with breaking noos!’
I was born on February 20th, 1952; just two weeks earlier, Elizabeth
became Queen. So up until September 8th, my whole life had pretty much coincided
with her reign. Now I’m definitely not a Royalist or a Monarchist. My dad was a
true son of the North-East, a socialist who fought for his country. I listened
when he talked, and he explained how he could never get his head around the
idea that someone having a bigger sword than a rival a thousand years ago led
us to a perpetuating monarchy today. His logic made sense and stuck with me.
About ten minutes before the official announcement of the Queen’s
death, my wife and I, with Ruby, left the house to drive to the Midlands. Radio
2 was on, and although we didn’t quite get Burgess Meredith interrupting,
suddenly, Sara Cox was cut off in her prime. By the time we arrived at our
destination almost three hours later, I was so grateful to have been a captive audience
to what the BBC does best. One correspondent was with the crowds at Buckingham
Palace and, in passing, said something I found very powerful. He talked of
considering the Queen’s life in a rearview mirror. I imagined applying his
analogy to looking at a photograph. The reporter’s point wasn’t about
hindsight; that would be wishing a different picture had been taken. He was
referring to having another chance to study and evaluate existing evidence and
maybe, for the first time, see things you had not fully appreciated. The BBC
broadcast had allowed me to do just that; reviewing the Queen’s life and her
contribution to what we might take for granted.
When I was around 8 years old, the Queen visited our town, and my
school was close to the route taken by her cavalcade. All the other pupils and
I lined the road and waved and cheered as she passed. I glimpsed her in the
limousine’s back seat, noticing the white-gloved hand waving back gracefully. I
think that was the first moment I sensed being part of something that stretched
back to a time I couldn’t begin to conceive. Over the years since, I guess I’ve
increasingly embraced the importance of tradition. To misquote John Mellencamp,
‘you need to stand as part of something, or you fall as part of nothing.’
I’m well acquainted with the notion that people are not the same as the
institutions they represent. As a Sunderland supporter, I’m contractually
obliged to despise everything in the black and white stripes of Newcastle
United. Yet, would I have wished that Alan Shearer had played for us? Of
course! We could do with him now that Ross Stewart is injured. Shearer was an
excellent footballer who, despite retiring 20 years ago, is still the record
goalscorer in the Premier League. Ultimately, it’s the person that matters. So
although Elizabeth represented an institution l do not support, it doesn’t
prevent me from admiring her personal qualities in a prominent role.
Let’s consider a few other public figures with similar roles; Johnson,
Trump, Putin and Bolsonaro. Four modern horsemen of the apocalypse, each with
their own unique brand of selfish and disgraceful behaviour. If you had a
machine capable of extracting integrity from humans, their total accumulation
would be swamped by a tiny sample from Elizabeth’s little finger.
Stephen King is my favourite author, and in ‘The Stand’, he writes
about a plague-themed, post-apocalyptic struggle between good and evil. On one
side, Randall Flagg is probably the devil in disguise, and he realises he has
an opponent in Mother Abigail, an ancient lady living a simple, spiritual life
somewhere in the remote backwoods. Their battle isn’t physical; she is too
frail. However, her example, certainty, wisdom and inner strength are
inspirational for those preparing to stand up to Flagg and his followers. That
plot came to mind when the broadcast played a very early speech by the young
Princess Elizabeth when she said, ‘I cannot lead you into battle, I do not give
you laws or administer justice, but I can do something else. I can give you my
heart and my devotion to these old islands and to all the peoples of our
brotherhood of nations.’
So, to paraphrase my book, ‘Thank you, Liz.’
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