Trooping the Colour

OK. So this will involve a bit of a British culture/history lesson which may just bore you to tears. Or, you may find it interesting. Either way, Chris & I came within 30 feet yesterday of Elizabeth II, Her Royal Highness the Queen of England, and her husband Prince Phillip, and her daughter, Princess Anne, the reason being that we attended the Trooping of the Colour.

And here begineth the lesson (or just skip down to the photo album at the end. I'll never know): The flag, or "Colours" of a British regiment are historically a very big deal. Not just because troops could easily identify their home regiment on the battlefield, but as a way for the regiment to carry and display their battle honors and pay tribute to not only their victories, but their fallen comrades. Before the regiment would present its Colours to the sovereign following battle, the Colours were consecrated in a religious ceremony. It was decided in 1748 that the Colours would be trooped in front of the sovereign each year during a parade to mark his or her birthday; the current Queen has participated in every year of her reign with the exception of 1955 when there was a national rail strike. (She even rode her own horse in the parade until 1986 when at the ripe young age of 60 she decided - or maybe someone decided for her - that a carriage would be a better bet.)

The Colours that were trooped at this year's Queen's Birthday Parade are those of the 1st Battalion Grenadier Guards. But it's not all just a lot of ceremony - this battalion in fact just returned from a tour in Afganistan in April where they were wearing flack jackets as opposed to ceremonial parade dress and scanning for IED's as opposed to marching in front of the Queen. I can only imagine what a strange transition that it must be for these men & women, but hearing some of them speak in a BBC TV special about the seemingly polar opposite experiences, it seems that they are both quite meaningful for these soldiers - but obviously in very different ways.

So. As I had previously mentioned, we were fortunate enough to receive tickets to yesterday's program from one of LMUK's Board Members who could not attend. It's worth mentioning that absolutely anyone can put themselves in the lottery to get these tickets - it's not a matter of status or income (case in point - they let us in.) The tickets are just to get into the stands; before arriving at the Horse Guards Courtyard where the ceremony takes place, many of the participants and the royals come down the Mall (pronounced here with a short "a", as in "Al", as in "Gore" as in "what the heck is going on with the Gore family?" But, alas, I digress...), where thousands of people line the parade route and I'm sure get a pretty good look at whose a-comin' down the lane.

The weather was pretty decent. No rain, and no direct sun which I'm sure the folks in those uniforms were grateful for. We arrived in plenty of time to stand in the 45-minute queue for the royal porta potties (Loos R Us. I am not making that up.) (Really and truly, I'm not.) There were women in hats (not me) and some in flip flops (unfortunately when we walked to lunch later not me either); most men in jackets but some in windbreakers. Older people and even quite a few children. The ceremony - even before the royals arrived - was entertaining just in the way that the officers shouted at their troops to get them all in a straight line, and the soldiers in turn scootched an inch or two one way or the other to comply.

So, we're about 30 minutes into the band music and boot shuffling when the sound of cheers emerges from the direction of the Mall. And then an escorted carriage arrives, followed by another. They were so bloody far from us, the only thing that I could admire was the color of the dress (of who I thought was) the Queen was wearing. Then the carriages rode under an arch and out of sight - as a matter of fact we never found out what became of them. So I thought to myself (and sighed under my breath to Chris) "Wow. I guess that's it." Boy, was I wrong. A few minutes later, more, louder cheers from the direction of the Mall. Chris says "I think this has got to be her." And by George, he was right! Escorted by a regal troop of Household Cavalry, came the Queen's carriage - and in it? The Queen! Yes indeed. Of England! (Oh yes, and her husband Prince Phillip the Duke of Edinburgh. Whatever. No big whoop there.) This is the kicker - their carriage rode right in front of the stands that we happened to be in! She was within spitting distance I tell you. Not that I would've even imagined spitting. I was too busy pinching Chris's arm and murmuring "oh my God oh my God oh my God.." No waving. Nothing close to a smile even. I guess after 58 years of these things how excited can she get? I didn't wave either, but I'm sure I was smiling. Even Chris was impressed. Not a peep about that night's football match against the US, or even the BP debacle. Everyone was extremely quiet and respectful.

Off they rode to the podium, then more pomp and circumstance and music and parading (all of it quite impressive.) And then eventually, after troops were inspected and Colours were trooped, all of the participants, including Elizabeth, were marched back to Buckingham Palace. Too long of a walk to follow them in my new (really cute) heels, but we stuck around on the Mall so that we could see the Royal Air Force fly-over that always accompanies these things. Then we went to an awesome Indian restaurant for lunch and came home.

Oh, and by the way? The two royal carriages that transported royal individuals whom we could not identify? None other than: Carriage #1: Camilla Parker Bowles and her step-son PRINCE WILLIAM, and carriage #2: Princesses Eugenie & Beatrice, making their first public appearance since their mother's scandalous gaffe some weeks ago. Wow. I mean WOW. Never ever in million trillion years could you ever have convinced me 6 months ago that I, Sue Manning Wronsky, daughter of peasants (had to add it for dramatic effect, Pop - everyone knows you & Ma were no peasants) would one day be within spitting distance of the Queen of England. Bob Sheiffer? Perhaps. David Hyde Pierce? If you're really lucky. The Queen of England? No friggin way.

http://picasaweb.google.com/swronsky/TroopingOfTheColoursQueenSParade#