From the thrilling days of anti-bluebell bolshevism

If for no other reason, I am thankful Facebook exists because I may not otherwise have been made aware (by my friend Chris) of this wonderful quote from the diaries of the late Queen Mother (recently published, edited by William Shawcross), apparently from 1924, when she would have been in her early 20s:

“I am extremely anti-Labour. They are so far apart from fairies and owls and bluebells & Americans & all the things I like. If they agree with me, I know they are pretending – in fact I believe everything is a pretence to them.”

This seems a tad extreme: given her extensive list of likes and dislikes -- many of them quite sensible --  I'm sure that there would have been at least some common ground to be found with Labour, even with its radical anti-bluebell faction:

“I like so many things”, the Duchess of York enthused in an early letter to [D'Arcy] Osborne, “fairy stories, fat butlers, porters, the smell of tangerines, suave Orientals, a good tune, lovely colours, French accents, puppies, bath salts, & a million more”. She disliked fewer things, but heartily. “Tactlessness annoys me – also rudeness . . . crass stupidity, & people who are pleased with themselves. Also spiders, caterpillars, slugs, frogs, toads, loud voices & nasty coughs”. 

I mean, who doesn't like puppies, suave Orientals and French accents?

Make my (jubilee) day

Should any republican demonstrations get out of hand today, it seems Her Majesty should be able to handle things.



So let's be careful out there, my friends.

(Image via The Shirk Report)

Cavaliers and Roundheads

As the natural-born citizen of a free republic (like at least one other well-known person) who became, by choice, the citizen of another king-free zone, I suppose I should be appalled by today's royalist happenings.

Though, judging by the homepage of one of Germany's leading news magazines today, I suppose this association is less strong than you might think (note the crown in place of the usual 'O'):

Anyway...nonetheless, as the son of a woman (born in the same year as Lizzie II, as it happens) whose membership in the post-Second-World-War British diaspora was (almost, at least as far as I remember) daily renewed by some reference to the Windsors (and who, by breaking through police barriers during some royal tour in the late 1970s managed to briefly hold hands with HRH The Prince of Plant-talkers), I find it difficult not to feel somehow positively disposed toward today's couple.

And there was a moment during the singing of 'Jerusalem' (which sounded at said woman's funeral four years ago, though in the rather less bombastic Billy Bragg version) during which, I must admit, a tear or two was shed.

That's what a sad case I am.

So I wish them well. As she would have done.

[UPDATE]: Norm put it better than I ever could.

Checking in and checking out ....*

"How I enjoy the thought of a Royal Personage being sea-sick in crossing the Channel!"

I don't know which historical event caused George Gissing to write this in his Commonplace Book, but it seems a timely comment - not so much because of a certain royal wedding over which Telegraph readers have been fretting for ages now, but rather because I'm halfway on my way to an academic event in which the author of the above quote plays a not insignificant role.

Toodlepip, everyone!

*Title refers to this song.

Grattis till bröloppet!

I simply love royal weddings. They always provide wonderful opportunities for the deployment of long-forgotten lexical treasures dug up from the murky depths of our linguistic unconscious.

Underused words such as "Schaluppe." As in "Die königliche Schaluppe" (i.e. "the royal sloop"). Like the one visible in the background of this wedding snapshot:


Now this is, you will agree, a mighty fine word. And the boat itself isn't bad either - the kind of object you won't ever get at IKEA's.

There's only one song to go with this, of course, which I hereby dedicate to Princess Victoria of Sweden and Commoner Daniel: