Queen Elizabeth II is having a special day. As of today,
she has become the
longest-reigning monarch in British history. She surpasses the record held
by her great-great-grandmamma, Queen Victoria.
(I’m assuming that she makes it through to H-Hour, which
is apparently calculated to be at 1730 BST.)
There’s going to be a flotilla on the Thames, and Members
of Parliament will wax servile. My friend MLD will ring peals at two church
towers in Berkshire, and I hope there will be a couple of toasts drunk to the
old gir…I mean, to HM.
The monarch in question is evidently not taking time off
from her day job, which today is in Scotland, opening a railway and sucking up
to the semi-country’s First Minister. (If you’ve forgotten about their attempt
at bonsai independence last summer, you can refresh your memory. Or not.)
Let no one say this woman does not know how to take a hit for Team Britain.
Look—if you’re going to have a hereditary monarchy,
Elizabeth II would be as good an example of how to do it as any. She shows up
on time, hits her marks and knows her lines. She has been the One Fixed Point
in a Changing Age for more than 63 years, which encompasses a lot of ages; milk bars, the Beatles, Thatcherism... She’s
been polite to a string of prime ministers that run the gamut from Winston
Churchill to Gordon Brown, and she’s carried on in the face the excruciatingly
well-publicized antics of her children and grandchildren
well into the distressing era of smartphones and social media.
And as far as we know, she hasn’t resorted to drink.
So, hip-hip and mazel tov, ma’am. You go, girl.
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