I HAVE to admit, this struck me as being the assignment from hell. What
possible purpose could be served by sending a theatre critic to review the
Queen Mother's birthday pageant?
The whole point, or at least a large part of the
point, of being a critic is to pick holes in
things. But to criticise this occasion would be
tantamount to treason. Who would want to
rain on her parade? Even this notoriously wet
summer did not dare. In these difficult days
for the Royal Family, almost everyone still
loves the Queen Mum.
And even those who take a disapproving line
on the Royal Family in general could hardly
object to a party for a woman who is about to notch up her 100th birthday
after an adult lifetime devoted to smiling, uncomplaining and remarkably
uncontroversial public service. Like almost everyone else in the country, I
have always had a soft spot for her.
How could one fail to warm to a woman who is such a radiant walking
advertisement to the life enhancing - indeed life-lengthening - pleasures, of
gambling and gin? Still, I feared that the parade itself might prove far more of
a penance than pleasure and, despite this newspaper's hard editorial line on
the matter, I had a sneaking sympathy with the BBC's decision not to televise
the event live.
Reading the programme in advance, it
sounded like an uneasy blend of formal
militarism and cuddly amateurism. The very
word "pageant" summons up a sepia-tinted
image of village halls and happy patriotism that
seems worlds removed from the slick,
spin-obsessed world of mirrors and smoke
that is Blair's brave new Britain.
But as soon as you arrived at Horse Guards
you realised that that, of course, was the great
glory of the occasion. The Queen Mother
belongs to a quieter and a more gracious age,
and once you had braved the bomb scares and the traffic chaos bringing the
rest of London to a grinding halt, the birthday salute whisked us back to
simpler and more innocent times, when words like duty, discipline and service
were admired rather than mocked.
What took me by surprise, though, was how much fun it all was too. There
were moments here that rose to dizzy heights of surrealism undreamed of by
even Monty Python in its prime. Who could have imagined for instance that
the vast parade of people who work for organisations dear to the Queen
Mother's heart would be led by a flunkey walking her two beloved corgis?
Or that the procession would feature City of London worthies riding on
camels, for heaven's sake, one of which almost toppled its rider when it
suddenly decided to take a break and sit down? Or that Mick Jagger's former
wife, Jerry Hall, soon to appear naked on the West End stage, would drop
not her clothes but a highly elegant curtsey while dressed like the fairy queen
in celebration of the National Trust?
The Queen Mother must have found some of the show bewildering. The 100
years of her life whizzed by in six minutes in the Pageant of 100 Years which
ranged from her own birth, through two world wars, and on to the glories of
the Wombles, punk rock, and Lord help us, the Millennium Dome.
It was a reminder that there has always been a healthy streak of vulgarity
about the Queen Mother, which is one of the reasons why we love her. It was
exemplified, too, by the choice of songs which included My Old Man Said
Follow the Van and the number that ought to be her signature tune, Spread a
Little Happiness.
The sheer scale of the event made the average Busby Berkeley musical seem
distinctly underpopulated, with a cast of thousands - six thousand to be
precise, including 1,000 children. By the end, the whole parade ground was
full of people of every age, from every possible walk of life, a potent image of
the Queen Mother's gift for uniting the most disparate elements.
But if much of the show was fun, it was also deeply affecting. The sight of the
Queen Mother, pretty in pink, as we all knew she would be, brought a lump
to the throat. More moving still was the fact that this centenarian stood up as
the doughty Chelsea Pensioners filed past.
The sight and sound of the military massed bands which opened and closed
the show were undoubtedly magnificent, and a reminder of this nation's talent
for grandeur, but it is the human details that will lodge themselves most
potently in the memory.
Sir John Mills, almost as old as the Queen Mum himself, temporarily losing his
way in his lovely speech of thanks . . . The handicapped children of Chicken
Shed Theatre performing so vibrantly. These were moments that will be
etched in the memory.
Most moving of all was the Queen Mother's simple but deeply felt speech at
the end. When she said "God bless you all and thank you," before tackling the
steps down from her platform, you knew you were in the presence of rare
grace.
~*~
Queen Mother reigns on her parade(Electronic Telegraph)
By Robert Hardman
NO member of the Royal Family has reached 100 before now and so there
was no textbook for this occasion.
Instead, there was one simple theme:
take a century of duty, example and
support for every conceivable facet of
national and Commonwealth life and
put it all on parade. From the moment
Queen Elizabeth the Queen Mother
swept on to Horse Guards in her open
carriage, the National Anthem blazing
away, that grand old parade ground
became a carnival of past, present and
future.
Dressed in pink, and with the Prince of Wales at her side, the Queen Mother
did her best to inspect the troops while simultaneously waving at the
13,000-strong audience. Once safely on the royal dais, she had been
expected to sit. The Prince of Wales suggested as much by sitting down
himself. But she had other ideas.
There were, after all, the salutes of no fewer than 26 different arms of different
Services to be taken. She stood up throughout. The Prince, realising he was
beaten, stood up too. The Irish Guards might have trodden this square many
times before but it was a first for the men of the Cape Town Highlanders, part
of the first South African military contingent to march through the capital since
the Coronation.
Their country's "Rainbow Flag" led them past. They were there because the
Queen Mother is their Colonel-in-Chief, one of countless examples of the
global nature of this celebration. To the fore were a Royal Navy detachment,
her 13 British regiments and two RAF units. But following swiftly behind were
the Black Watch of Canada, the Royal New Zealand Medical Corps and
many more.
Bringing up the rear were those perennial royal favourites, the King's Troop
Royal Horse Artillery and the Mounted Bands and Escort of the Household
Cavalry, as polished and precise as ever. After the past masters of pageantry,
it was the turn of the people. The release of 100 doves - which all headed off
over Whitehall - was the prelude to The Pageant of 100 years, the 20th
Century in six minutes.
At the head of this parade came the actress, Wendy Craig, pushing a pram
depicting the infant Lady Elizabeth Bowes-Lyon. And in close order followed
a myriad of moments from the century, some momentous, others ordinary, all
familiar. The suffragette movement was represented by the female
impersonators Hinge and Brackett, handcuffed to a railing.
Lawrence of Arabia, accompanied by a toy camel on wheels, was followed
by signs depicting the discovery of penicillin and the birth of the hairdryer. The
silent movie industry was hilariously recreated on the back of a pick-up truck
where a boy was strapped to a railway line with a wagon about to hit him.
Butlin's Redcoats, the Home Guard, evacuees, Dame Vera Lynn in a forces
jeep, a bonsai papier maché Everest - on they all came. With four massed
bands, two Canadian bands, the Royal Philharmonic Orchestra and 15 choirs
all working in unison, the music was as big a feat as the pageantry.
From Chitty Chitty Bang Bang and a boy dressed as Bobby Moore with a
replica World Cup, the parade sped along. The Beatles, James Bond's Aston
Martin, punk and the Wombles were followed by a British Film Industry float
where Sir Norman Wisdom was clowning around on the back. And after a
children's depiction of the Channel Tunnel and one, poor lone soul dressed as
the Dome, it was time for those who know the Queen Mother better than
most to pay tribute.
More than 300 organisations connected with the guest of honour had come to
salute the person who has supported their work and graced their letterheads
for years. Leading them in, to cheers and laughter, were her two corgis, Rush
and Minnie, with the Queen Mother's steward, Billy Tallon, clinging fast to
their leads.
And then the diversity of interests which have dominated the Queen Mother's
life poured forth in a procession which brought forth as many laughs as it
commanded lumps in throats. The royal wave was in overdrive. Among the
first to pass was equine phenomenon, Desert Orchid, followed by the Injured
Jockeys Fund and the Salmon and Trout Association.
The crowd, all issued with songsheets, sang along to classics from the Queen
Mother's finest hour - Pack Up Your Troubles, Keep The Home Fires
Burning and more. Rousing cheers went up for the RNLI, complete with a
turn-of-century lifeboat towed by a tractor, and the Poultry Club's mobile
chicken run with a bemused cluster of Buff Orpingtons strutting behind the
wire.
Barnardo's children skipped ahead of a bewigged contingent from the Middle
Temple who were followed by an elaborately dressed troupe of students from
Rada. A huge National Trust display attracted particular attention due to the
presence of model/actress Jerry Hall in period dress. The riskiest venture was
that of the Worshipful Company of Grocers who had arrived on camels, a
reference to their spice-trading origins.
As the grocers doffed their caps, one camel decided it was time for a rest and
proceeded to kneel. Piling on the emotion, a Lancaster bomber flew overhead
flanked by two Spitfires, music to the ears of the veterans' associations which
brought up the rear. Members of the Colditz Association arrived in a vintage
taxi and loud applause greeted five more vintage cars carrying the Battle of
Britain Fighter Association.
The 13,000 were soon on their feet and cheering for the 12 Rolls-Royces
carrying six holders of the Victoria Cross and 21 holders of the George
Cross. The latter included the Maltese High Commissioner and the Chief
Constable of the RUC - representing the two collective holders of the George
Cross - as well as Chief Supt Jim Beaton, the detective who was shot
protecting Princess Anne from a would-be kidnapper.
Among the VCs were Capt Dick Annand, the first VC of the Second World
War, and Flt-Lt Bill Reid. Nothing was going to stop them making this
parade. Thanks to yesterday's bomb scares and gridlock, Lt-Col Eric Wilson,
VC, 87, was forced to walk all the way from Waterloo Station but he made it
on time.
And bringing up the rear were 30 Chelsea Pensioners, keeping time to The
Boys of The Old Brigade. By now, Horse Guards was packed with this vast
depiction of service to others. More than 300 children from the Chicken Shed
Theatre Company danced and sang before a vintage Rolls-Royce Silver
Ghost brought on the guest speaker.
Sporting his Garrick Club tie, Sir John Mills - himself a mere 92 - echoed the
sentiments of all: "Thank you for everything you have meant for the people of
this nation and the Commonwealth." As a group of children formed into a
giant birthday cake and a million rose petals were scattered from the gantries
by Gurkhas, a huge card was presented to the guest of honour.
And finally, she spoke. "I would just like to say a heartfelt thank you to all
those who have come from far and near to take part in this lovely parade."
Crystal clear and supremely confident, her small voice carried from Downing
Street to The Mall.
"It has been a great joy to me - the marchers, the children, my regiments,
especially the music, the excellent musicians have been a wonderful joy to
hear. I do hope you've all enjoyed it as much I have. It's been a wonderful
evening and I would just say God bless you all and thank you."
Three resounding cheers rang out. And all were left wondering whether they
would ever see anything quite like this again.
~*~
Dame Shirley collects royal honour(BBC News)
Singing star Shirley Bassey has been made a
Dame Commander by the Queen at a ceremony
in Buckingham Palace.
She collected the award after receiving
recognition in the Millennium New Year's
Honours List for services to entertainment.
Actress Barbara Windsor was also honoured
with an MBE for 50 years of entertainment.
Afterwards, Dame Shirley said: "Who would
have thought a little girl from Tiger Bay would
one day become a Dame?"
Miss Bassey, 63, who
counts the Prince of
Wales as one of her
biggest fans, has
celebrated over 45
years in showbusiness.
She was born the
youngest of seven
children in Cardiff's
dockland area and, at
the age of 14, sang at
local working men's clubs before beginning to
tour around Britain. She had her first hit in
1957.
With her powerful voice, lavish gowns and
extravagant hand movements, she topped the
charts two years later with 'As I Love You'.
The performer said she nearly had a "heart
attack" when given news of her award.
"I was asleep and my
manager came to wake
me up because we
were going out that
night," she said.
"I didn't feel like
getting up and I said
'go away, let me sleep.'
"Just as I was going
back to sleep he said,
'You wouldn't get up
even for a Damehood?'
"I had to keep it quiet
for seven weeks. I nearly had a nervous
breakdown.
"I was afraid to go out in case I told someone
- my social life was nil."
Well known for singing the theme songs to
three James Bond movies, Miss Bassey had 29
best-selling albums between 1961 and 1991.
In the 1990s, she
teamed up with
electronic band The
Propellerheads to remix
'History Repeating' and
she raised the curtain
on Rugby World Cup '99
with a performance at
the Millennium Stadium.
Miss Bassey was
awarded a CBE in 1993.
She has spent more
time in the UK charts
than any other British female performer.
Miss Windsor, who plays the landlady of the
Queen Vic in EastEnders, attended Buckingham
Palace before taking part in the Queen
Mother's 100th birthday pageant later in the
day.
"It is such an honour to receive this award and
to be taking part in the parade later," she said.
"I shall be meeting two royal queens today -
how wonderful."
Miss Windsor, 62,
whose first film role was
as a schoolgirl in a St
Trinian's film, made her
name in the Carry On
films, particularly the
scene in Carry on
Camping when her bikini
top flies off.
But when asked if she
had thought of doing
cracking any jokes at
the Palace she said:
"What could I do? I
couldn't lose the bra, could I? I don't think it
would have been appreciated."
Miss Windsor, accompanied with her husband
Scott Mitchell, 36, and her agent Barry
Burnett, said the award ceremony was a
nerve-wracking experience.
"It was worse than a first night or my first day
on EastEnders," she said.
"The Queen said I had been making people
laugh for a long time and I told her it was 50
years - she looked quite taken aback by that."
~*~
Terrorists accused of disrupting Queen Mum's big day(Yahoo: Ananova)
Terrorists attempting to disrupt the Queen Mother's centenary pageant have been blamed for a security
alert which left much of London gridlocked.
The alert began after a bomb was spotted on a rail line near Ealing Broadway station following calls
made in the Dublin area to a number of organisations. Police shut the line and carried out a controlled
explosion.
The alert later spread to central London with Victoria and Westminster stations paralysed just hours
before crowds were due to flood into the area for the Queen Mother's centenary pageant.
Major John Petrie, one of the organisers of the Queen Mother's pageant, said the security alerts were designed to disrupt the
event.
"Yes, there's no question that the bomb alerts are intended to disrupt the pageant," he said.
The major held discussions with police to discuss the security implications of the alerts.
~*~
How I danced for Britain(UK Times)
BY RUTH GLEDHILL
FOR someone with a
long-standing ambition to
dance in the ballroom at
Buckingham Palace, this was
a not bad second best.
Six couples from the English
Amateur Dance Sport
Association had been invited
to dance to represent the
1930s for the Queen
Elizabeth the Queen
Mother's Birthday Tribute.
Lindy Hoppers, hula
hoopers, rock 'n' rollers and disco dancers were behind
us, doing the 40s, 50s, 60s and 70s.
The romance and excitement of the occasion made itself
felt early in the day as we walked through the crowds
already gathering in the sunshine to The Mall for a
rehearsal.
In spite of hours of waiting, practising and standing
around, the excitement and build-up stopped the blisters
that were appearing on our feet from feeling sore.
As 5pm approached, royal guardsmen called us to order
and told us to stand in line. The 100 doves were released,
and the strains of Mendelssohn's Oh For The Wings Of
A Dove drifted out of Horse Guard's Parade to where we
were waiting.
As the massed military bands played on, I thought of the
late Edna Dean, the 1933 world ballroom dance
champion who inspired the song I Danced With A Man
Who Danced With A Girl Who Danced With The
Prince of Wales.
My legs suddenly threatened to give way with nervous
trembles but there was no time to stumble or fall because
Noel Coward's Dance, Little Lady was playing and we
were on, into action with runs, hops, jumps and spins.
It seemed to go all too quickly, yet every second and
every beat of music counted. The hardest part was
suppressing the urge to wave or courtesy to the Queen
Mother as we quick-stepped on by, but the dance had to
go on.
It truly was an honour, an overwhelming one.