Corgi and Bess: More Wit and Wisdom from the House of Windsor

Corgi and Wess

MORE WIT AND WISDOM FROM THE HOUSE OF WINDSOR

THOMAS BLAIKIE

Contents

Cover

Title Page

Introduction

Royal to the Core

Family Rivalry — Who is the Loveliest of Them All?

Who’s in Charge? The Struggle for Power

They’re Really Quite Normal

Home Life

Don’t I Get No Respect?

Going About My Business

How Much Does it Cost?

Our Real Friends

All in Good Taste

In the Cradle

Intimate Moments

The New-look Monarchy

Abroad

Sources

Notes

Acknowledgements

ALSO BY THOMAS BLAIKIE

Copyright

About the Publisher

Introduction

You Look Awfully Like the Queen, my previous collection of Royal stories, was my first book. For me, it was thrilling enough just to be published. It never occurred to me that anyone might buy the book or that sales might even be necessary.

But fortunately many of you did buy it, and in quite large numbers.

Informal, behind-the-scenes glimpses of Royal life, sometimes quirky (for the Windsors are odd, as you might expect), not always as fawningly flattering as old-fashioned deference would have demanded, but always affectionate, seem to be popular. Perhaps it is that they catch the spirit of the modern, more cheerful and friendly Monarchy which we all want and in fact have — for the Queen and the Monarchy have changed, despite all claims and appearance to the contrary. Gratifyingly for me, members of the Royal Family have taken to telling Royal anecdotes themselves. To mark his mother’s 8oth birthday, Prince Andrew gave a number of interviews in which he retold the title story of You Look Awfully Like the Queen, getting it slightly wrong, if I may say so.

Here, in Corgi and Bess, you will find many tantalising vignettes, the majority of them never before published or from elusive sources, of all the peculiar, contradictory traits of Royalty. One minute they are just like us, worrying about the shabby state of the curtains, and the next doing something really quite strange, like kissing a small child goodnight with a crown on or showing astonishing knowledge of the smoking habits of goats. You will find yourself experiencing, perhaps, equally contradictory feelings about them, veering from anxiety as to exactly how seriously to take them to respect and admiration.

You will see also changes in the Royal Family reflected. There are a number of exclusive stories about the Duchess of Cornwall, as well as Princes William and Harry. It is interesting that Princess Margaret, a few years after her death, begins to look less and less … well, I hesitate to say this … awful. Her idea was that there was no point in being a Princess unless you could do exactly as you liked — and that’s just what she did, with breathtaking dash and aplomb. You’ve got to give it to her.

Royal anecdotes may be popular but that doesn‘t mean they’re easy to come by. No, they are rare. People who know them guard them jealously. I could write another whole book about the struggle I’ve had to excavate the stories in this one; but I was fortunate to come across some highly exclusive sources without, I can honestly say, having to penetrate the Palace disguised as a footman.

But in one maddening instance no amount of digging could achieve anything. Somebody told me a story about the Queen walking her dogs and meeting a member of the public who didn’t recognise her (this could be true if it happened some time ago). This person had the cheek to suggest that the Queen’s dogs were badly behaved and she ought to do something about it. Her Majesty made some funny reply, but my source couldn’t remember what it was. Can you believe it?

So, if anyone thinks they know, do be in touch. I’m sure a suitable reward can be arranged.

Royal to the Core

‘Royalty are marvellous — they never crease or stain.’

EVE POLLARD, commenting on the fashions at Royal Ascot in the 1970s

In May 2006, the Queen was moved and delighted to open a garden in memory of Princess Margaret at Oxford’s Rothermere American Institute. She had just one little reservation — the lettering on the plinth, was it big enough? She could hardly read her sister’s name! Her hosts’ explanation that maybe it was owing to the brightness of the day did not convince. On her way out, the Queen came across a poster for a student rock concert with outrageously bold lettering. ‘That’s the sort of thing you want,’ she said.

Skinny-dipping in the River Dee on the Balmoral estate is a favourite pursuit of Royal staff and their guests. But it is very cold. You don’t want to be in there for too long. Two young men cavorting in the river didn’t think much of it when the Queen drew up on the bank in a Land Rover some years ago. She’d soon be gone and they could get out. But, sitting at the wheel, the Queen began to acquire an alarming regal immobility. She did not move. What’s more, they formed the impression she was doing it deliberately. Only at the very last minute, when they really thought they could bear it no more and would be forced to leap naked from the water before their Sovereign, did the engine of the Land Rover splutter mercifully into life and the vehicle move off.

When, in the 1950s, Lady Pamela Berry came to inspect the arrangements for a fashion show to be attended by the Queen Mother and Princess Margaret, she said, ‘What are these chairs?’ referring to two throne-like items which had been provided for the Royal persons. ‘They won’t do at all.’ The organisers were put out. Lady Pamela Berry got the cleaning lady to sit in one of them. ‘You see. Where are they to put their handbags? They can’t go on the floor.’ More capacious chairs with room to stow a handbag had to be found at once.

At Eton Prince William came across a fellow-pupil throwing stones at a swan. ‘Stop that, you ginga bastard!’ he cried. ‘Those are my granny’s swans.’ At Eton they don’t say, ‘ginger’, they say, ‘ginga’.

Princess Margaret’s journey from Kensington Palace to the Chelsea Flower Show (a distance of just over a mile) was accomplished under police escort in three and a half minutes.

When the Queen returned from her State Visit to China in the early 1980s, she arrived at Heathrow Airport at 8.48 in the evening. By 9.06 she was at the private entrance of Windsor Castle.

During the power cuts of the 1970s, the Queen sat at her desk, unperturbed and in the dark, wearing a mink coat.

The Queen’s private letters, marked ER in one corner, are sent by special messenger or registered post to help post-office workers resist the urge to make off with them.

Prince Charles has a way of dealing with smokers, which others might like to follow. ‘Yes, of course,’ he says, when someone asks if they may smoke, ‘but I’m afraid there are no ashtrays.’ Which leaves the would-be smoker nicely high and dry.

Every night for four weeks, in the run-up to Christmas, the Queen goes on a shopping spree in one of her own drawing rooms. A huge selection of goods, supplied by a certain London department store, is shipped in and displayed in her home shopping mall.

In the days when the Queen spent Christmas at Windsor and then moved on immediately to Sandringham, all her Christmas cards, decorations and presents, including a menagerie of soft toys given her by Hardy Amies, went with her.

The Queen takes no notice of the commonly held superstition that it is bad luck to keep your Christmas decorations up beyond Twelfth Night. Hers remain in place for as long as she feels like it.

Although in 2000 the Queen had to stay up to see in the New Year, century and millennium at Greenwich, at other times the Royal Family arranges things differently. Sometimes at ten o’clock on New Year’s Eve a message is received in the kitchens: ‘We want New Year now.’ Staff rally round, altering all the clocks to suit.