Last weekend was the Queen's Platinum jubilee: 70 years since her coronation as Queen Elizabeth II. Even people of my age were born well into the second Elizabethan era: correspondingly, we have known no other monarch (and that is saying something).
There has been a lengthy nationwide celebration of the jubilee: an enormous 4-day jamboree in London and elsewhere; the celebrations have encompassed beacon-lighting, concerts, street parties and more forms of communal merry-making that passed me by.
Wye Church and bunting
I'm not someone who gets stuck into the big national celebrations — I've always tended to stay away. So, we had a lovely relaxed four-day weekend, and dipped into some of the events shown on TV (not many and not for long, it has to be said; the Test Match was much more my thing). Poor old Rod Stewart having to gurn the feel-good-sing-along du jour, "Sweet Caroline", to the crowd — "The BBC made me do it"*.
Anyhow, I felt the need to document at least some of the evidence of the celebrations, so I've been photographing the bunting nearby. In this entry, I'm posting some of the images I took locally in Wye. They had a heaving street party (which I didn't go to) — it must have gone well, because the barman in the King's Head in the High St told me they ran out of lager and Whitstable Bay bitter. Hmmm ... maybe I did miss out after all.
Oh well, here are some records of the time, concentrating on a few of the quirky details that characterise British celebrations of this sort. The pictures are very much “after the party has moved on”: a quiet dull Sunday afternoon near the end of the four day holiday when no-one was around.
Tea cup and saucer in a window. Perfect for tapping out the rhythm of “We will rock you” with a tea spoon.
Shop window
Women’s Institute noticeboard and bunting
Take-away and bunting
Union flags at the entrance to the local primary school
*And is it just me? Am I misremembering Paddington? I can't remember him ever drinking from the spout of a teapot. He always seemed to me to be very well mannered when he went to have elevensies with Mr Gruber. He was certainly clumsy, but always thoughtful and well-intentioned — he would have thought it selfish to hog the only teapot. I'll have to find the books and investigate!