Despite feeling a bit peaky, I summoned my dwindling Dunkirk spirit to join some friends for the Queen’s Diamond Jubilee Procession on Tuesday. It was all very English – full of people desperately trying to be jolly in the rain.
After a somewhat-too-leisurely pub lunch, we got confused and ended up being kettled (in a nice way) and shunted into Hyde Park to watch it on a big screen. On the way, we were lucky enough to be overtaken by some royal horses which trotted by just a few feet away.
The weather went all wuthering in the park, so the assembled masses hunkered down and used their £2 plastic flags as ponchos/kagools/headscarves. It was all terribly Blue Peter.
We cheered in a sodden sort of way when the Royal Family appeared on the balcony, and we had a good view of the flypast which miraculously made it under the clouds.
Back home, I removed my jumper, hoodie and anorak and crouched over a convector heater with a hot chocolate, before retiring at 9.20 pm.
Knighthood please. Thank you ma’am.