No one was more irritated than I was when the royal engagement was announced on 16 November. Not, I hasten to say, because I did not welcome the news, but selfishly, because I realised I would miss a rare lunch at the Historic Houses AGM — and many further lunches over subsequent weeks. Since then, as when the Princess of Wales was killed, I have been a prisoner of the media. The engagement took everyone by surprise — and the calm discretion with which the whole process has been handled since must be a delight, and even possibly a surprise, to Buckingham Palace and Clarence House. Nothing leaks. I also detect a gentler approach from the media. They seem glad for any titbits that we veterans can provide, since a new, uninformed generation of journalists has sprung up. A few years ago they were combative and aggressive.
The global media ask the same questions each time they lug their cameras up several flights to my book-lined room in Kensington. Their favourite is ‘Will Charles be King?’ Unless he predeceases his mother, he certainly will and so he should be. Arguably he will be a different man when he takes the throne. Albert Edward, Prince of Wales, a noted roué, became a splendid monarch famed for his diplomacy as Edward VII. His grandson was a charming and dashing Prince of Wales, a worried Edward VIII and an embittered Duke of Windsor — three different men within the same frame. The press jibed at Mrs Parker Bowles until the very day of her marriage, but since she became Duchess of Cornwall, they have treated her with respect. It will be interesting to see what Prince Charles will do with his eventual reign. It would be very difficult for Prince William to succeed his grandmother. King Charles will pave the way.
The reviews of Ali Forbes were a particular feature in The Spectator for countless years. Readers with furrowed brows untangled his syntax, were variously amused and exasperated by his mischief, and the house lawyers dealt with a spate of writs that arrived from the likes of Dame Rebecca West. Ali contributed the few jokes in my book on the last years of the Duchess of Windsor. Last summer I ran into the former Lord Chamberlain, Lord Airlie, in the street and asked if he could confirm whether he had scattered the earth on the Duchess’s coffin as it was laid to rest at Frogmore. He told me that this was indeed the Lord Chamberlain’s remit. Soon after the funeral in 1986 Ali went up to Nin Ryan, Lady Airlie’s American mother, and mused: ‘Imagine you being the mother-in-law of the last man to dish the dirt on Wallis!’
Wearing another hat, I was on duty for the Royal Victorian Order service at St George’s Chapel on Wednesday. It is difficult to get the congregation seated as it is a Royal Household order, many have not seen each other for years, and as fast as they are put into their seats, they pop out again like Jack-in-the-Boxes to greet each other. Elderly GCVOs have a habit of standing on each other’s robes. Some years ago the late Sir Ashley Clarke stood on his own and rolled down the aisle (fortunately only in rehearsal), while, another year, the Duchess of Grafton’s heel got caught in a heating grille near the West Door. The Queen did not attend at the last minute — due to a nosebleed. I was asked when she last missed such a service. All I could recall was Lord Cambridge’s funeral in 1985.
Media towers are sprouting up near Buckingham Palace and Westminster Abbey. The royal wedding is being treated as a television event on a par with the Olympic Games. NBC are sending 250 people over, ABC 150, and CTV Canada 60. If 1,000 million witnessed the 1981 royal wedding, this will be seen by billions across the globe — due to the proliferation of televisions in China and the internet. London will be showcase to the world for a few happy hours. The Today Show in New York and other programmes have had daily bulletins, yet in Britain there is a certain caution. No one wants to put the same kind of pressure on this wedding as was put on the 1981 one. Remember Archbishop Runcie’s address: ‘This is the stuff of which fairy tales are made.’
Of all the things I have been asked to do, quite the most unusual was to be sent to New York to instruct the political satirist Stephen Colbert in the niceties of etiquette. He is hot property on New York television and the fantasy was that he might be attending the royal wedding. It gave me my Andy Warhol 15 minutes of fame (42,000 hits on YouTube). Fortunately I am not fond of slapstick humour so maintained a straight face throughout. But to use an Ali Forbes expression, ‘I felt obliged to ask’ Stephen if he would be wearing a stiff collar for the ceremony. ‘Will you rise to a stiffy on the day?’ I enquired.
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