A sad, sad day

Our beloved Queen Elizabeth II has died.  

We met her in June, 2006, shortly after her 80th birthday.  I will never forget it.  Here is a story I wrote, which I am re-posting in her honour:

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.  (This family lore was later debunked, when I took a '23 and Me' test; absolutely no native DNA to be found.)  Anyway, back then I didn't know that, so I wondered would she notice?  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, I 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.   

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So, this is my tribute to Her Majesty.  May she rest in a well-earned peace.