Well, the Monarchist League forwarded my name to the BBC, when they canvassed for people to interview for an upcoming radio program called, "The Day I Met the Queen." Today I had my interview about the day in 2006 when I met and chatted with her. The interviewer said I had done very well and had made him laugh, just as I did Elizabeth II when we met.
This interview will be broadcast to millions of people all over the world, so that's a bonus to the thrill I had when Elizabeth stopped to chat with me. (See 'The Queen' March 20, 2012) I have now experienced my 15 minutes of Andy Warhol fame.
I gave all the details that follow here:
The
Queen, the hat and me
“It appears you and Mr. Marley-Clarke will be
representing Canada when Her Majesty visits on Friday,” said the chair of the
London Commonwealth Society. “Do you
have a proper frock?” he added. I was
speechless – not only because I was to meet Her Majesty, but also because he
wasn’t sure I had an appropriate “frock” for the occasion. “Yes, I have a frock and am thrilled I will
be so honoured,” I replied with delight.
My husband and I were in London a few years ago for an
international Royal Commonwealth meeting and the opening of the newly-renovated
Commonwealth Club. As my husband was
still vice-chair, I hadn’t anticipated our being the Canadian representatives,
but luckily for us, the chair had to leave before the official opening, so we
were next. “Oh dear,” I exclaimed to
Brian, “I have the frock, but not a hat!”
The frock was a designer-original silk suit, created for a family
wedding, but a proper hat I still had to find.
Off we went to Debenhams.
Wandering through the extraordinary hat department
were excited women chatting and trying on beautiful varieties. I needed an exact colour and asked for
help. “What’s the occasion?” the sales
girl asked. “Well, I am being presented
to The Queen tomorrow.” “The Queen!” she
practically shrieked. At that, every
head turned, rushed over and pitched in to choose my hat. “Oh my dear,” said one matron. “This is really something, you have to look
your very best,” she added unnecessarily.
Finally the perfect hat, which matched my burgundy shoes and trim, was
purchased. Huge, it required a hat box
to accommodate it. Hadn’t seen one since
those wonderful thirties Hollywood movies.
The day dawned.
Extremely nervous, I was up early putting on makeup and affixing the
famous hat. Although Her Majesty was not
expected until 11, for security reasons, guests were instructed to arrive by
9:30 at which time all doors were closed.
So, there we were, awaiting the momentous arrival of Her Majesty Queen
Elizabeth II. Walking in and looking
around, I realized with horror I was the only woman wearing a hat. In London!
We all know that once committed, a woman can’t change head-gear course
without exposing the dreaded “hat head”.
So, I asked someone I knew would know about hat protocol. “If The Queen is wearing one, others may,” he
told me. “It’s a bit like a crown.” Having never seen The Queen without a hat, I
figured I was de rigeur.
The excitement rose as the hour approached and those
of us who were to be presented were put in the official line and given detailed
instructions about how to address our Monarch.
“Your Majesty initially and Ma’am thereafter, if she stops to chat,”
said the lovely man. “And of course, one
curtsies,” he added, asking me to demonstrate.
I passed.
“I first met The Queen in 1964 in Malaysia,” said the
officious gent beside me. “Oh, I’m sure
she will remember!” I replied factiously.
“I am sure she will,” he seriously replied. Some people, I thought. After what seemed hours, the buzz built. “She’s here!”
We had been asked to write a little about ourselves so she could be
briefed as she walked the receiving line.
Thinking about their loyalty to the Crown, I had written that my
great-grandmother had been a Mohawk from Tyendinaga. Would she care? As she mounted the stairs, I gasped. She was magnificent in an apple-green
ensemble and, to my relief, a matching hat.
I was safe.
She approached everyone with her beautiful smile, but
when she reached me stopped. I almost
froze. What was she looking at? My hat?
Bizarrely, I noticed her lipstick was almost the same shade as
mine: Estee Lauder’s Starlit Pink no.
18. I also noticed she was shorter than
I. Looking into her clear blue eyes, I
fancied I could see back hundreds of years to the Houses of Stuart, Tudor and
Wessex. “You’re here for the meetings,
are you?” she said. “Yes Ma’am, I
am.” “Always interesting to exchange
ideas,” she added. “I’ve certainly
learned a lot,” I replied, as she began to move along. What possessed me I have to clue, but I threw
in, “And I thought I knew everything!”
At that point she turned, looked at me and let out an audible, genuine
guffaw. “It happens,” she said. “Believe me, It happens!” Unfortunately, the gentleman who had been
convinced she would remember him didn’t get much of an introduction because
Elizabeth II was too busy laughing.
I visualized my monarchist grandmother, mother and
aunts dancing around me, as thrilled as I to have met their beloved Queen. After she took her leave, a lavish reception
followed. Approaching me as I awaited a
calming flute of champagne, an elderly gentleman said, “My dear, The Queen’s
hat was lovely, but yours is a cracker!”
Leaving London from Heathrow a few days later, I stood
in line with the formidable millinery box.
“Sorry, you will have to stow that, you can’t take it on board. It’s too big,” said the Air Canada agent
tapping at her computer, barely looking up.
I told her I didn’t know what to do with it and added, “This hat met The
Queen, so I can’t wreck it.” This caused
an excited commotion behind the counter and I was asked to take it out and try
it on. So, there I stood, modelling my
“Queen hat” for the excited agents and the visibly-annoyed long, impatient
lineup behind me.
Eventually, they took the hat box and stowed it safely
with the captain’s gear. To this day
it’s known as “The Queen Hat” and worn proudly whenever the occasion
permits.