The Palace Calls

 

The Palace Calls

My sister  has an MBE. My father had a CBE. One uncle was knighted another got an OBE. This week it was my turn to be invited to the Palace. We were both excited, what would we talk  about, how would I put her gracious majesty  at her ease.

As it turned out She   could not come to  Charlotte’s leaving party. Charlotte a  dear  friend,  was retiring after 12 years as chief buyer for the Royal Shops. The south drawing room complete with long tailed waiters, white wine and pnuts was laid on.

One of those who  worked in the shops told me that two years a ago Princess Ann  came to their Christmas do. “She was lovely”. Bless. One of the flunkeys told that she loved her job and  previously she had been a nanny.”This is much more fun.” Indeed.  I chatted merrily with the Belgian lady who had a Chinese pearl farm which supplied the shops.

To get through the side entrance one had to provide a  passport and negotiate with the armed policeman on the gate. And what a wag he turned out to be. I hear its a right rave, get ready, he joshed. He had the sub machine gun, we had no idea whether it was loaded or his mood. So we laughed.

Of course the part of the  Palace we saw is designed for entertainment on a large and grand scale. So it was not surprising that back stairs was rather like a grand hotel. The Palace is after all the nation’s entertainment venue. The view of    the gardens showed that preparations were well advanced for this year’s garden parties. Any way next time my sister tries any of her ladila, I’ll tell her. And the Queen? she knows where I live.

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