Everything went exactly as planned, bar the weather which, typically, refused to supply warm sunshine and fluffy white clouds, and instead went all gloomy with a steady drizzle and cloud so low that part of the RAF fly-past had to be abandoned. The crowds cheered, the state coaches glittered, Chas and Cammy, surrounded on all sides by bishops charged with preventing their escape, managed to get through a fairly dull service in Westminster Abbey, albeit enlivened by some splendid traditional music plus some modern extras and made a triumphant appearance on the balcony at Buck House a little later.
It was strange to see the blend of religious service and political rite-of-passage. When he arrived at the West Door, Charles was greeted, not Archbishops and Deans, Dukes and Marshalls, but by a young boy, a chorister, who effectively asked him what he was doing there. His reply was that he was there to serve. (It should have been "This is my personal church, young fellow, and if you don't want my beefeaters to rough you up, I suggest you get out of the way"). Charles, keen to not just endorse Henry VIII's title of Defender of the Faith but to be all things to anyone believing anything by being Defender of Faith, spent a fair amount of time affirming the privileges of the Church of England and the truth of the Protestant religion. Oddly, various clerics participated with readings from the Bible, including some whose faiths do not acknowledge it at all. The one who played the least part in proceedings was the Chief Rabbi, bound by hundreds of years of tradition that forbid Jews participating in the religious proceedings of others. But at least he was there, processing in with the others and being greeted at the end by the newly-crowned monarch.
I was looking forward to seeing the massed ranks of the peerage swearing homage, wearing their ermine state robes and flaunting coronets and tiaras but there were none - modernisation has relegated them to mere onlookers wearing similar gear to everyone else. Only the Archbishop of Canterbury and then the Prince of Wales made a personal act of homage - the rest of the congregation and all of us watching were invited to take a mass oath.
And now I must revise one of my earlier pieces in this little series, where I opined that not much seemed to be happening locally. Mrs C and I strolled into the heart of beautiful Ruislip this afternoon and saw three roads closed off for street parties. One was rather discreet -
but closer to our house, our near neighbours made their usual exuberant expressions of loyalty
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