a State Opening of Parliament in the 1980s, Lord Havers, then Lord Chancellor, was not very quick off the mark. At the head of the procession, he did not move off in time and had to be whacked on the back by the Garter King of Arms who was standing behind him. Afterwards the Queen was in very high spirits. She singled out Garter and said, ‘I loved the great biff you gave the Lord Chancellor.’ Nor did her good mood end there. As she drove out from the Victoria Tower, in her fur-trimmed state gown and with George IV’s diadem on her head, she was spotted pulling funny faces at the Duke of Edinburgh.
Prime ministers have been notoriously cagey about what goes on at the Tuesday audiences with the Queen. But Harold Macmillan let slip that, when John Glenn was orbiting in space in the early 1960s, he and the Queen were so glued to the wireless that affairs of State were overlooked.
Richard Crosman, the Labour minister, made disparaging remarks about the monarchy to Lord Porchester, the Queen’s racing manager. The next time he saw the Queen, she opened the conversation menacingly: ‘Lord Porchester has been telling me about you.’
When Harold Wilson asked leave of the Queen to go to France, she giggled. The papers had been full of stories of how President Giscard d’Estaing was in the habit of driving about in a car full of spirited women. The Queen pretended to be concerned that Wilson would get mixed up in this too. On his return, the merciless ribbing continued for some time.
Dignitaries arriving at Balmoral in wet weather are sometimes told that now isn’t the best time. The footman might gesture to a solitary figure sitting hunched under an umbrella in the middle of the lawn. Often they do not recognise the Queen, picnicking alone while the soft, warm rain of Scotland that she loves falls around her.
When Gore Vidal went swimming in the unwholesome, slimy pool at Royal Lodge with Princess Margaret, the pair found that some unfortunate bees were drowning in the water. So they picked them up and flung them into the air. ‘Go forth and make honey,’ Princess Margaret barked regally as they buzzed away.
At the Guildhall lunch for her 100th birthday, the Queen Mother was quick to pounce when the Archbishop of Canterbury picked up her glass by mistake. ‘That’s mine,’ she said, snatching it back.
Diana Cooper, the socialite and beauty, was immensely short-sighted and quite used to sustaining conversation with people she could not recognise even though they plainly knew her. But on one occasion she got a shock. She found herself talking to a small woman who was most solicitous and, alarmingly, seemed to know her well. Only by dint of much squinting and peering, did she manage to make out that it was the Queen. Amidst gales of apology and belated curtsying, she said, ‘I’m so sorry, I didn’t recognise you without your crown on.’
When Hugh Scanlon of the TUC lunched with the Queen in the 1960s, he managed to project a roast potato from his plate on to the floor. It looked as if his hostess had not noticed and, what was more, one of the corgis was approaching and would surely consume it. But the corgi, taking its time, made a lengthy inspection and then waddled away. ‘It’s not your day, is it?’ remarked the Queen.
The Duke and Duchess of Beaufort had the democratic idea of inviting the vicar to dinner with the Queen at Badminton. However they didn’t think to tell him that an invitation for 8.30 actually meant 8.15, so the vicar arrived to be greeted by a butler in a flap saying, ‘The Queen is just coming down. If you hurry you’ll just be in time.’ So he hurried, slipped on a wet step and got covered in mud. When he was presented to the Queen, the Duchess said, ‘Look at the state he’s in.’ It was left to the Queen to suggest sponges and make light.
A Labour minister in Harold Wilson’s government, called to Balmoral for a Privy Council Meeting, felt uncomfortable when he saw that all the other ministers were in appropriate Scottish wear and he wasn’t. But the Queen was charming. Pointing at his chest, she commented, ‘How useful a string vest is.’
Guests were taking it in turns to spend a few minutes chatting on the sofa with the Queen Mother after dinner. When a well-known actor came up, she was especially animated. ‘We know each other well,’ she cried and patted a place beside her for him to sit down. They talked about mutual acquaintances and so forth. Then the Queen Mother inquired about his work. He explained he was doing a one-man show that was going on a short tour before ending up at the Edinburgh Festival. ‘Which theatre?’ asked the Queen Mother. The actor frowned. ‘You won’t know it, ma’am. It’s just a little place.’ ‘Go on, try me!’ ‘Well, there’s a waxworks attached – it’s just a tiny little place…’ But the Queen Mother had already risen out of her seat. ‘Know it?’ she cried. ‘I’m in it!’
At Sandringham there was a display of prize rabbits. Unfortunately one of them was sadly substandard, in fact a disgrace – nearly bald and scrawny. The lady-owners of the beautiful, sleek rabbits tried to conceal the horrid one from view as the Queen Mother approached. But to no avail. She homed straight in on the wretched creature, picked it up, stroked it, murmured tender words in its ear and exchanged sympathetic glances with its triumphant owner. The other ladies were not best pleased.
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