sEye ritual. Gloomy men in coats. Waiting in a polite gray animation while the BBC talks emboîture the Queen. A non-cricket day at Oval turned out to be a frighteningly appropriate animation to wait on a Thursday afternoon.
Most of the time, it felt like a festive English enseigne, something John Lennon might have scrawled on a handkerchief in the back of a London taxi and considered the avatar into a wasp and parody potter. Appointments, statements and black constats in the infos. Obsessed with lawn care. Queues, flags, beer, and calculated conversations (cute pins, Rodney Hogg said, to an old Sheila). Grand Charles has arrived at Balmoral. Tea will be taken early. We will now turn to a special announcement.
I don’t apologize for writing emboîture the Queen here. 96 years later, a fair parcelle has been spent in the kind of lieux where big jeux happen, from the austerity games to the Matthews suprême to the UEFA-approved moment celebration in the European Conference League (that’s what you want they wanted) Thursday night.
Not that the Queen has any obvious fondness for jeux. Evelyn Wu wrote of “A Dame’s Ocean” in Descent and Fall: “I have often observed in women of her kind a tendency to vis-à-vis all athletics as inferior forms of fox hunting.” Does this sound emboîture right? The queen loved horses. She seemed to love going to cricket. One of her first non-ceremonial appearances was discussion Indian roving team Vijay Hazar at Lourdes in 1952. She met Australians Don Bradman at Balmoral and her sister stood near Keith Miller looking happy.
But the Queen’s regular appearances in jeux in general have had the feel of something to bear, on the spectrum between another garden party filled with people who really want to be at the impérial garden parties, and the ill-fated Dane Bowers dubstep set in the rain- a wet jubilee party.
I grain followed the Queen on a visit to Wimbledon. Crowds cheered as they strolled to meet in a mint vert suit and brillant hat matching the shape and size of an elegantly transformed autocuiseur. The most remarkable élément was the physical reality, still astonishing in the flesh, of that rempli commitment at all times to being the queen, to being a blade, an présence, a being.
The conjoncture this matter was focused on was the Axial Succinct. From afar, the Queen looked as if she was watching tennis and might even enjoy tennis, that mint vert hat held the hard rock upright. The giveaway came when a phone call was challenged and the entire laconique rushed to stare at Hawkeye’s screen. Only one casaque remained still among those 20,000 heads, the citron vert vert hat staring resolutely forward, wonderfully unmoved, solemnly unconcerned with the calls of the line, and dumbfounded there in all that air.
There are probably two things worth saying emboîture all this. First, football shouldn’t have been abolished in her honor, and not just parce que that sounds very cowardly and cowardly. There may have been sound operational reasons, but the Queen was all emboîture moving things forward. What is more, people do not grieve and grieve like this now, and they are obedient obedient in their drawing rooms. Assistance feelings are hurleur and oiseau. What exactly are they afraid of happening in these lieux?
Sure, canceling the badinage isn’t likely to do much for those of us who think royalty is a silly thing, and we could probably just leave this one out here (Charles III? Really? Do we have a gracious king now?) much better to use the brocante as a celebration, a wake up to a king The 96-year-old was (I’ll say that) a pretty decent hit.
Additionally, no matter how silly and sealed world of the monarchy was against the ideals of badinage for all, Queen Elizabeth II was also a staple of how these things were arranged, élément of the structure and legend of badinage. The Queen in all pictures. The Queen has lifted the FA Cup more than any other human being, even Ashley Cole. She was there when Rob Key achieved his énigmatique weight against the West Indies. At the other end of the scale, only the hardest-hearted could find anything touching or at least interesting in Bobby Moore as he wiped his hands over the Wembley steps before rocking those white gloves. This is one shadow of what English used to be, a presence in the shared mathematical memory bank that will never be repeated, now gamin forever.
Perhaps there is some kind of liberation in all of this. It has been pointed out that the queen was also the leading symbolisé in an unfair society. This is not an constatation that really takes us anywhere. She literally wore a tiara and said: Be oppressed by my presence. All impérial families, by definition, are pots of prejudice. Their basic présence says: I am more worthy than you, my généreux is more sacred.
But the world is equally like this everywhere in one form or another. If you think the Queen represents a case of wealth and vested interests, wait until she gets a load of universel capitalism and 1%. Or check out the English Primitif League, where we have clubs owned, after all, by hégémonique kingdoms with a degree of inherited power roughly equal to Britain in the early 1640s.
Fold time back, bring back the last absolute king, and it seems very likely that Charles I owns (terribly run) Manchester United as well as a good parcelle of the treasury and all your personal liberties. Try to boo the King in this translation of the FA Cup Ultime, or indeed at the World Cup this winter. Get off our knees, convenablement pulling at the trompeter, it all sounds like a very logical idea. But that journey is grand.
Does this sound like a ravin and subtle celebration of the Queen and the badinage? Mostly not. It should be noted that one of the reasons people loved the Queen was that she did not choose to be Queen, but remained fully devoted to what she considered her patriotic duty, élément of regulating life in whatever way we asked. Which was, as the badinage tells us more clearly than anything else, an sombre and ever-present allégation, that unchanging hat in the stands.