Queen Elizabeth was not meant to die like a mere mortal - she should have kept on going till at least 101, like her mother. And without the cigarettes and gin, 101 was a modest target. So her passing was unexpected and deeply saddening.
On Tuesday she had accepted Johnson's resignation and asked Liz Truss to form a government. Unusually, this happened in Balmoral rather than London (which somehow required both new and former premier to fly to Scotland each in their own jet), but photos showing a smiling queen (albeit holding a walking stick) reassured the nation. On Thursday lunchtime, Twitter started buzzing with rumours that the Queen was in a serious condition; At this stage, however, I was still hoping that the Queen would recover after a few days, and would return to full health. But when images of her children and grandchildren arriving at Balmoral started appearing, I could tell that all was not well. I started receiving media requests, these conversations ending with me and the producer both saying "let's hope we don't have to speak again any time soon."
Sadly we did; at 19:00 (6pm in the UK) the BBC announced her passing. My phone began ringing nonstop. I've done three TV and one radio interview today, more lined up for the following days.
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I have no experience of a world without Queen Elizabeth II. You'd have to be in your mid-70s to be able to say you do. Her profile was on the coins I'd take to school to pay for my school lunches - the profile of a young woman; on other coins in my hand would be profiles of her father, her bearded grandfather, her bearded great grandfather or even her great-great grandmother. Postage stamps bore only her likeness, commemorative stamps being few and far between (I recall the 1965 Battle of Britain 25th anniversary set; most stamps, however, would just feature the Queen's profile on different colour backgrounds. There was a large portrait of her, in her regal finery, above the stage in our primary-school assembly hall.
She was the personification of the British state that was undergoing dynamic change. We, the young Elizabethans, growing up in the 1960s, were moving swiftly away from the drab greyness and emotional tightness of post-war austerity. Our future would be one driven by the 'white heat of the technological revolution', by supersonic jets, hovercraft, colour television and gigantic computers.
Once a year at primary school, we'd march around the playground carrying flags; this used to be called Empire Day, but then became renamed Commonwealth Day. Because I had an aunt living in Canada, I was chosen to carry the Canadian flag - this was bright red with Union Jack in the corner, then one year it changed to a red-white-red one with a red maple leaf. Somehow I felt less connected with it. Things were changing fast. As a child, I visited the Commonwealth Institute in Kensington, an impressively modern architectural structure. I went to see it with my parents one Sunday. Exhibits from every corner of the globe. Baskets woven in Africa or Asia. I must have been young; after the visit with my parents, I remarked to my mother "byłem pod wrażeniem" ("I was impressed") - she replied that she was impressed that I had used the phrase "byłem pod wrażeniem".
My mother, born on this day (8 September) less than 17 months after Princess Elizabeth, was a staunch royalist. Having been through the whole Soviet experience in WW2, monarchic Britain was an oasis of civilisation, of order, of politeness and decency. The polar opposite from the arbitrary terror and brutal stupidity from which she had escaped, that had claimed the life of her father and had now engulfed the land where she was born. Somehow she ascribed all this, plus free NHS services and letters from civil servants signed 'your obedient servant' to the Queen - nasza królowa.
I have never met the Queen; I did meet Prince Phillip (who visited my workplace). I'd forgotten his quip - which an old colleague reminded me of after his death; on being introduced, I told him that I edited the CBI's fortnightly magazine, and he asked how often it came out. And once, I caught sight of King Charles III as a young man at the Tate Gallery, passing through with his escort.
The Queen is dead, long live the King. I feel Charles's reign will be turbulent. Constitutional issues will come to a head; calls for the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland to adopt a written constitution will become louder. And an end to first-past-the-post voting? And an end to the unelected House of Lords? How many states of which Charles is now head will become republics? Queen Elizabeth II of England was Elizabeth I of Scotland; on her death, Charles became Charles III of both kingdoms - but will his son become William V of England and William IV of Scotland? Will the unravelling of the United Kingdom begin with Northern Ireland?
It has long been held that the passing of Queen Elizabeth II will be the end of an era. Victorian constitutionalist Walter Bagehot's observation that the government of Britain was the magic of royalty and the machinery of Westminster and Whitehall, and that "daylight should not be let in on the magic" was perfectly put. The television age, sadly, did just that - and the magic faded after It's a Royal Knockout. Royalty is not about entertainment, but about timeless values.
Queen Elizabeth II stayed the course; however, she did not waver, dedicating her life to the crown in the old-fashioned way, even though her children's generation had tried to move with the times, into an era of celebrity rather than of authority.
Am I an monarchist? A royalist, in opposition to republics with their elected heads of state? I have no ideology in this regard; I'm a pragmatist. All I'll say is that the monarchy, represented by Queen Elizabeth II worked. The Queen as head of state was infinitely preferable to a President Blair or a President Johnson - but then there have been dreadful monarchs in Britain's history too. With her passing, I would still rather commit to a constitutional monarchy as a preferable model for governance of the UK rather than swapping it for a republic.
And so I mourn the passing of the Queen; I deeply respected her in a way that I am unlikely to come to respect a head of state ever again.
So far, 2022 has been a bad year; had my father, with his superstitious dislike of the number 22, would have been looking forward to 2023.
This time three years ago
Best sandwich ever
This time four years ago:
Pictures of Warsaw
This time seven years ago:
Scotland's independence referendum looms
This time ten years ago:
Summer comes crashing to a halt
This time 11 years ago:
The atmosphere of impending autumn - Mono no aware
This time 12 years ago:
Time to recycle.
This time 15 years ago:
Coal train running
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