and generally regarded as quite precocious in her learning – but she picks herself up and tells us that ‘the Jewelled Sword’ was made for George IV’s coronation, thus precipitating an argument amongst one section of the grown-ups about George IV’s position in the chronological order of kings – clearly he came after Georges I, II and III, but did anybody come before him? Someone proposes Queen Anne as the bolster between Georges Three and Four, but then a fresh argument brews up as to who exactly George IV was ‘when he was at home’ anyway. Uncle Bill claims he was ‘the fat git that built Brighton’, while Uncle Clifford staunchly maintains that he was ‘the one that lost America’. (They should ask the house ghosts, for whom it’s all just like yesterday.)
Patricia is brought in to adjudicate – rather a heavy burden for a child of her tender years, I fear – but she is an ardent Royalist and has already committed half of the entire royal family tree to memory, starting with Egbert (827-39). Unfortunately, she has only reached Edward II and cannot help in the matter of the mysterious Georges.
Other members of the party (Nell, Mrs Havis and Auntie Gladys) are already launched on the remaining Georges (V and VI) and an orgy of nostalgia is occasioned by the appearance of Bunty’s George V – Seventy Glorious Years book and the discovery that Patricia’s Daily Graphic Book , having of necessity been published before today’s Coronation, is actually full of pictures of George VI’s coronation, ‘The old king,’ as everyone fondly calls him as if England is one big fairy-tale country full of goose-girls and wicked queens and ‘old kings’ who suck on pipes and wear slippers embroidered with golden crowns.
The Georges I to IV contingent are also the Brown Ale contingent – a conspiracy of husbands on the Watneys composed of Uncle Sidney, Uncle Clifford, Uncle Bill and George, and a token bachelor, Uncle Ted.
Coronation memorabilia begins to pour out of every nook and cranny now – my father’s Edward VIII Coronation jug, an item commemorating an event that never took place thus giving it a curious philosophical value, not to mention Ena Tetley’s George VI Coronation teaspoon, now in Bunty’s possession and which is, of course – technically speaking – stolen property (see Footnote ( iii ) ).
Patricia, being a school-age child, has the biggest and best trawl of loot and is hauled onto centre-stage to shyly but proudly display her 1) Coronation mug, 2) Coronation coins in a plastic wallet, 3) Coronation medal (identical to the one the new queen will pin to Prince Charles’s little chest later in the day), 4) Coronation toffees in a splendid purple and silver tin, 5) the aforesaid Daily Graphic Coronation Gift Book for Boys and Girls and, last but by no means least, 6) a Union Jack flag. For patriotic reasons, she is dressed in her school uniform – brown and yellow gingham dress, a brown blazer and a brown beret. Like Gillian in her Coronation-white, I am also in my best frock for the event – a lemon taffeta with Peter Pan collar and short puffed sleeves. Lucy-Vida is dressed in one of Auntie Gladys’ weird home-made creations. Whenever Lucy-Vida visits from the wilds of South Yorkshire she appears to be on her way to a fancy-dress party. Auntie Eliza’s flying needle stitches her one and only into a vast array of net and tulle, frills and furbelows so that on the stalks of her thin legs Lucy-Vida looks like an exotic flower blown wildly off course.
We are all familiar with the fact that Auntie Eliza is ‘common’, about as common as you can get, according to Bunty. We know this has something to do with the fact that her blond hair has coal-black roots and she is wearing immense rhinestone earrings and we suspect it also has to do with the fact that – even on Coronation Day – she is not wearing stockings and her legs are dimpled and mottled and brazenly display their
Patricia is brought in to adjudicate – rather a heavy burden for a child of her tender years, I fear – but she is an ardent Royalist and has already committed half of the entire royal family tree to memory, starting with Egbert (827-39). Unfortunately, she has only reached Edward II and cannot help in the matter of the mysterious Georges.
Other members of the party (Nell, Mrs Havis and Auntie Gladys) are already launched on the remaining Georges (V and VI) and an orgy of nostalgia is occasioned by the appearance of Bunty’s George V – Seventy Glorious Years book and the discovery that Patricia’s Daily Graphic Book , having of necessity been published before today’s Coronation, is actually full of pictures of George VI’s coronation, ‘The old king,’ as everyone fondly calls him as if England is one big fairy-tale country full of goose-girls and wicked queens and ‘old kings’ who suck on pipes and wear slippers embroidered with golden crowns.
The Georges I to IV contingent are also the Brown Ale contingent – a conspiracy of husbands on the Watneys composed of Uncle Sidney, Uncle Clifford, Uncle Bill and George, and a token bachelor, Uncle Ted.
Coronation memorabilia begins to pour out of every nook and cranny now – my father’s Edward VIII Coronation jug, an item commemorating an event that never took place thus giving it a curious philosophical value, not to mention Ena Tetley’s George VI Coronation teaspoon, now in Bunty’s possession and which is, of course – technically speaking – stolen property (see Footnote ( iii ) ).
Patricia, being a school-age child, has the biggest and best trawl of loot and is hauled onto centre-stage to shyly but proudly display her 1) Coronation mug, 2) Coronation coins in a plastic wallet, 3) Coronation medal (identical to the one the new queen will pin to Prince Charles’s little chest later in the day), 4) Coronation toffees in a splendid purple and silver tin, 5) the aforesaid Daily Graphic Coronation Gift Book for Boys and Girls and, last but by no means least, 6) a Union Jack flag. For patriotic reasons, she is dressed in her school uniform – brown and yellow gingham dress, a brown blazer and a brown beret. Like Gillian in her Coronation-white, I am also in my best frock for the event – a lemon taffeta with Peter Pan collar and short puffed sleeves. Lucy-Vida is dressed in one of Auntie Gladys’ weird home-made creations. Whenever Lucy-Vida visits from the wilds of South Yorkshire she appears to be on her way to a fancy-dress party. Auntie Eliza’s flying needle stitches her one and only into a vast array of net and tulle, frills and furbelows so that on the stalks of her thin legs Lucy-Vida looks like an exotic flower blown wildly off course.
We are all familiar with the fact that Auntie Eliza is ‘common’, about as common as you can get, according to Bunty. We know this has something to do with the fact that her blond hair has coal-black roots and she is wearing immense rhinestone earrings and we suspect it also has to do with the fact that – even on Coronation Day – she is not wearing stockings and her legs are dimpled and mottled and brazenly display their
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