In the eyes of this crazy British lady (for that is what I am, all rumors to the contrary notwithstanding), I think the wearer of The Crown (The. Real. One.) outdid herself today with her annual Christmas message. Delivered perfectly–she’s 94 years old, for Pete’s sake, and puts almost any decades-younger American politician that springs readily to mind, to shame (looking at you Joe Biden). Kind, empathetic, understated, wise, and charming.
Impeccable production values too. Seamless segues from HM to sundry Royals, to the first responders, to the unheralded, and unsung, unknown warriors who’ve been keeping things together for us all.
I do believe the House of Windsor has embraced the twenty-first century.
You go, Ma’am (“as in ‘ham’ and not “ma’am as in farm”)!
(PS: Still not sure about Charlie.)
Merry Christmas, Everyone.
I only have one Queen Elizabeth personal story, having to do with the Royal visit to Nigeria in 1956 (when I was about 15 months old, and at which Dad was in some small way attendant. She arrived at one or another of the Catering Rest Houses in the North, very tired. (I suppose she was 29 or so at the time and had been on the throne about four years.) She sat down in the bar area, threw off her shoes, put her feet up on the table and said, “Cor, it’s nice to put yer pins up.” Which is sort of regular British slang, mixed with Cockney rhyming slang, for “Lord, it is lovely to elevate one’s legs after a tiring day.”
That’s all I got. But I’ve always had a soft spot for the lady.