On the Diamond Jubilee

Last weekend Her Majesty the Queen was celebrating her 60 years of reign (sounds somewhat like 60 years of rain, sic!) and the grateful subjects have been granted bank holidays in order to join in the festivities. They eagerly obliged and street parties, village parties, house parties were organised all over Britain to the highest joy of whoever produces Union Jack cups, plates, napkins, pennons, you name it. I was quite looking forward to partaking in such merry making – what an opportunity for observation of humans and all! - but our village unfortunately did not throw a party as the main street happens to also be a major transit road and disturbances caused by it being taken over by festivities would be excessive. Moreover, it was pissing it down the whole day on Sunday, so I'm not sure how much merriment I could muster. I decided to console myself by watching the pageant on the Thames – it had been announced way in advance and the expectations were high, personally I expected nothing short of the whole British fleet parading down the river to the sound of cannons and fireworks. Cannons and fireworks there were, I think, but the flotilla was highly disappointing – it looked as if they summoned anything that would float and threw it onto the river without any apparent plan or order. Yet people seemed to be having fun and enjoying themselves, both on the banks of the Thames and in their smaller groupings, waving Union Jacks energetically and drinking somewhat a lot - were I the Queen, I would be deeply moved by how thoroughly my subjects celebrated me. The Queen herself said she was humbled – which is mainly a distinguished way of saying the same thing.