May 2006, the Queen was moved and delighted to open a garden in memory of Princess Margaret at Oxford’s Rothermere American Institute. She had just one little reservation — the lettering on the plinth, was it big enough? She could hardly read her sister’s name! Her hosts’ explanation that maybe it was owing to the brightness of the day did not convince. On her way out, the Queen came across a poster for a student rock concert with outrageously bold lettering. ‘That’s the sort of thing you want,’ she said.
Skinny-dipping in the River Dee on the Balmoral estate is a favourite pursuit of Royal staff and their guests. But it is very cold. You don’t want to be in there for too long. Two young men cavorting in the river didn’t think much of it when the Queen drew up on the bank in a Land Rover some years ago. She’d soon be gone and they could get out. But, sitting at the wheel, the Queen began to acquire an alarming regal immobility. She did not move. What’s more, they formed the impression she was doing it deliberately. Only at the very last minute, when they really thought they could bear it no more and would be forced to leap naked from the water before their Sovereign, did the engine of the Land Rover splutter mercifully into life and the vehicle move off.
When, in the 1950s, Lady Pamela Berry came to inspect the arrangements for a fashion show to be attended by the Queen Mother and Princess Margaret, she said, ‘What are these chairs?’ referring to two throne-like items which had been provided for the Royal persons. ‘They won’t do at all.’ The organisers were put out. Lady Pamela Berry got the cleaning lady to sit in one of them. ‘You see. Where are they to put their handbags? They can’t go on the floor.’ More capacious chairs with room to stow a handbag had to be found at once.
At Eton Prince William came across a fellow-pupil throwing stones at a swan. ‘Stop that, you ginga bastard!’ he cried. ‘Those are my granny’s swans.’ At Eton they don’t say, ‘ginger’, they say, ‘ginga’.
Princess Margaret’s journey from Kensington Palace to the Chelsea Flower Show (a distance of just over a mile) was accomplished under police escort in three and a half minutes.
When the Queen returned from her State Visit to China in the early 1980s, she arrived at Heathrow Airport at 8.48 in the evening. By 9.06 she was at the private entrance of Windsor Castle.
During the power cuts of the 1970s, the Queen sat at her desk, unperturbed and in the dark, wearing a mink coat.
The Queen’s private letters, marked ER in one corner, are sent by special messenger or registered post to help post-office workers resist the urge to make off with them.
Prince Charles has a way of dealing with smokers, which others might like to follow. ‘Yes, of course,’ he says, when someone asks if they may smoke, ‘but I’m afraid there are no ashtrays.’ Which leaves the would-be smoker nicely high and dry.
Every night for four weeks, in the run-up to Christmas, the Queen goes on a shopping spree in one of her own drawing rooms. A huge selection of goods, supplied by a certain London department store, is shipped in and displayed in her home shopping mall.
In the days when the Queen spent Christmas at Windsor and then moved on immediately to Sandringham, all her Christmas cards, decorations and presents, including a menagerie of soft toys given her by Hardy Amies, went with her.
The Queen takes no notice of the commonly held superstition that it is bad luck to keep your Christmas decorations up beyond Twelfth Night. Hers remain in place for as long as she feels like it.
Although in 2000 the Queen had to stay up to see in the New Year, century and millennium at Greenwich, at other times the Royal Family arranges things differently. Sometimes at ten o’clock on New Year’s Eve a message is received in the kitchens: ‘We want New Year now.’ Staff rally round, altering all the clocks to suit.
A few years ago some old friends of the Queen living in North London invited her to their Golden Wedding party. They were delighted when it was announced at the last minute that she was actually coming but, since it was a private visit, it was explained that they would have to be responsible for the state of their garden path and front steps. No official inspection would be carried out beforehand. The Queen arrived, negotiating the steps without incident. But she could not be induced to sit down and, more importantly, could not be tempted near the fabulous buffet despite various children being propelled in her direction with winsome invitations. In the end, she said, ‘I’d love to stay and have supper with you, but I’ve got so many boxes to do for tomorrow, I’ll have to go home.’ So off she went to a lonely working supper. At this time she was aged 75.
Princess Margaret may have liked to build up a huge fire in the drawing-room grate (anything combustible that came to hand might be flung on: hosts had to watch out), but she didn’t greatly care for the warmth of human bodies near her. The composer Thomas Adès was once summoned by the Master of his Cambridge college to meet the Princess after dinner. He sat gingerly on a sofa with her, making charming conversation. Who knows, maybe he was enjoying himself just a little too much for suddenly the Princess was waving her hand dismissively: ‘Could you move away? It’s getting rather hot.’ More waving indicated the far end of the sofa.
Princess Margaret dined at Moro, the Sam Clarks’ fabulous Moroccan-inspired restaurant in Clerkenwell, in 2000 after a grand Royal Ballet event at Sadler’s Wells. Or rather, she didn’t. She took one look at the glorious menu — pigeon b’steeya with almonds, sugar and cinnamon; wood-roast Middle White pork; and rosewater and cardamom ice-cream — and ordered a boiled egg.
Governors and teachers were looking forward to lunch with Princess Margaret when she visited their school in the 1980s, especially since superior outside caterers had been engaged and they knew it wouldn’t be the usual mince. But the Princess had her own unique way of expressing her disapproval of fine dining. At the end of the first course she rose to her feet and swept out of the room, leaving the others with no choice but to trot after her.
Nicky Haslam recalls that, during a little marital disagreement, Princess Margaret became alarmed at Lord Snowdon’s apparent carelessness with lighted matches. ‘Watch out!’ she said, ‘you might set fire to my dress.’ ‘That wouldn’t matter. I’ve never liked that material,’ said Lord Snowdon. There was an unnerving pause, during which onlookers could hear the air stiffening as it froze. ‘We call it stuff!’ Princess Margaret boomed.
After meeting a British journalist during a Caribbean State Visit and discovering that he had had a surprise reunion with his own father during the Jamaican part of the tour, the Queen moved on to more important matters. ‘And did he see me?’ she inquired. ‘Did he see me?’
The actor Peter Eyre explained to Princess Margaret that he’d been on a march to protest about Clause 28 and that was why he was late for the party at Kathleen Tynan’s they were both at. She said, ‘I’ve no idea what you’re talking about,’ rising splendidly above politics, for Clause 28, as I’m sure you remember, was a piece of anti-gay legislation introduced by the Conservative Government in the 1980s. Peter Eyre, in rather belligerent mood, stuck to his guns. ‘Are you sure you don’t know?’ he inquired. In the end, he said, ‘It’s about gay rights.’ ‘Oh, I see,’ said Princess Margaret. ‘Well, I do hope you all sang, “Tramp, Tramp, Tramp, the Boys Are Marching”.’
Royal bathrooms always feature three basins. To avoid confusion, they are labelled, ‘teeth’, ‘hands’ and ‘face’.
The Queen’s outfits for the 1979 Gulf States visit were inspired by Marlene Dietrich in Morocco, a desert film in which she starred with Gary Cooper.
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