The Queen and I

I’ve not been hanging out with the Queen over the last few days. I’m not in with her crowd, I confess, nor did I hang out with her in a voyeuristic way via the TV. I went to a couple of squib events that were ostensibly in honour of her jubilee, but it was a bit of tokenism on my part really. I find it hard to work up much enthusiasm. Yes, I too have that kind of phoney nostalgia for a Britain that never was where we all had charming street parties, afternoon tea, cricket and world power (skimming quickly over the issues of colonialism, as we always do). I can’t quite buy it and I can’t quite feel it. I’m enough of a romantic to like going round believing (self consciously)in lovely things that never were, but Great Britain is beyond me.

I was a republican in my youth, and then the Americans elected George W. Bush. It occurred to me that the rest of the world does not hold you quite so responsible for the actions of a hereditary monarch. It’s not like you picked them or anything. Elections are no guarantee of quality, or that (to quote Andy Hamilton) you won’t end up ruled by an idiot called George who only got the job because he was the son of the previous idiot called George. The queen is harmless enough, does a good job of the hand waving, is a tourist attraction, and has almost no practical power. I can work with that.

Now, as I understand it, the Druids of old were very much wired into the Celtic political structure – advisors to Kings and all that. While I’m interested in politics, I’m also conscious that about the last thing I want to be is obliged to participate in running things. I’d rather be on the side lines, heckling when appropriate. It’s another one of those things which points at the great divide between historical Druidry and modern practice. If we had that kind of clout these days, I wouldn’t want to be a druid. I don’t like the mixing of religion and politics. It’s one thing being guided by ethical principles, quite another to run a country on the basis of what you imagine God wants. I’m increasingly inclined to think that if you couldn’t get it past an atheist, it probably isn’t a great policy. I also think that religions do not benefit from having that kind of power. It makes religion attractive to the kind of people who want power, who are not usually also the kind of people who care much for spiritual concerns. I like a bit of unworldliness in my religion. I like it to give me an option of stepping away from the madding crowd now and then.

I wouldn’t want the queen’s job. I don’t fancy the scrutiny, or the lack of job options. I wouldn’t want politics to enter into who I married. I could go on. I worked out when I was a child that I didn’t want to be a princess. But, she does a good job, I have no complaints, I’m very glad for her that she’s managed to live this long, I wish her well. So, shall we throw away all the plastic bunting that was made in China now? Throw way the uneaten party food, fold up our commemorative towels, and get back to normal? Do we all feel more British, more connected to each other, more hopeful? I’d bet we don’t. So much energy, to achieve, what, exactly? And so much that needs achieving. What if we’d spent all that money on honouring the queen by taking on child poverty? Or tackling some other shameful social issue? But, where would be the fun in that?