Taking Tea With the Queen

Several weeks ago I received a letter in the post, which is an exciting occurrence in itself. I slid open the envelope with eager fingers and extracted the embossed card from within. Written in calligraphic letters, I read: ‘The Lord Chamberlain is commanded by Her Majesty to invite Ms. Lauren Davidson to a Garden Party at Buckingham Palace.’

‘He sounds a bit reluctant to invite me’, I thought. But I was grateful for the invitation nonetheless, which was thanks to my role as President of my university debating society. Within seconds of receiving the envelope, there was only one thing on my mind: hat shopping. I bought three. Try as I may, I could only wear one, and as the auspicious day arrived I donned a solitary fascinator and tottered off to the tube.

On arrival at the palace, having initially walked the wrong way from the tube station, I was shown through the door underneath the balcony where Will and Kate kissed only two months ago. Alas, they are no longer there. I checked.

Walking through a red carpeted room, the garden then materialised before me, a vast Eden complete with trees, a rose garden, statues, flowerbeds, a marble gazebo and a lake. Pretty nice, as backyards go.

We lined up, sang the national anthem and spotted a queenly gleam of royal-wedding-yellow emerging from the palace. I was introduced to Prince Philip (curtsey, handshake, ‘Good afternoon, Your Royal Highness’), who was dressed immaculately in grey morning suit and seemed far from impressed that a recent graduate should have eyes for a career in journalism. He might have a point.

Once the formalities were out of the way, I headed for the main attraction: the tea tent. I believe the tea was Twinings, of whom the Queen is the second most famous client, after Stephen Fry. It was delicious, as were the finger sandwiches, ginger cakes and ice creams that we gorged on.

However, the day wasn’t all glam. As in all respectable British establishments, there were queues and a few fat raindrops splattered the lawn. At every step my heel got stuck in the grass, although I only have myself and the fashion industry to blame for that. And, of course, no one looks elegant stuffing cucumber sandwiches in their mouth.

Queues, shoes, rain and pain aside, the afternoon was a wonderful experience. After all, who can complain about a party with a generous supply of fruitcakes? And I don’t just mean in the food tent.

Image by britishmonarchy courtesy of Flickr