Vivat, Vivat Rex

By the end of her reign there were any number of Queens to choose from. There was the beautiful young woman of the Beaton portrait and the early coinage, the bourgeois housewife of the Royal Family documentary, the rubbery horror of the Spitting Image puppet, the caring matriarch of Peter Morgan's The Queen and so on and so on until we reach this year's addition to that multiplicity of personae- the sweet twinkly old lady who takes tea with Paddington Bear. That last one will stick, I think- if only because it's unquestionably the nicest, the most relatable...

I woke this morning with vertigo and have been tottering around ever since being gentle with myself. Ailz sat in front of a screen and watched the new king being locked into place while I sat in the other room, with my eyes shut, listening to the soundtrack. We Brits (meaning the British establishment- not thee and me) are very good at pretending we're still living in the 16th century.

Oh I know it's just an atavism and clear against my republican principles but I'm still getting a bit of a buzz every time I hear someone say "King Charles"...