The Royal Baby
has been born. I arrived here in London on the day of this auspicious event and
I feel like I am now a part of history because I was in London when it
happened. The emotion is similar but much diluted to that which I experienced
when I was at the stadium at the 2000 Sydney Olympics and saw Cathy Freeman win
the Gold Medal in the women's four hundred meters hurdles.
The birth of
the Royal Baby is an "I was there" type of an event.
Sometimes you
purposely go to these "I was there" events and
sometimes you just stumble upon them. They can be kismet. They can be long
anticipated or they can come completely unexpected. Some "I was
there" events may involve emotion - pride, celebration, awe and
even fear. Some may not. Being in proximity to them are good conversation
pieces.
My brother's
wife has had a few "I was there" moments and hers were all
disaster related. She was in New York when two planes flew into the World Trade
Centre. She had meetings in one of the Towers arranged for later that day. She
was also in Phuket when the Tsunami struck. She was mercifully unaffected by
either event. They claimed thousands of lives. There was somewhere else she was
too when disaster struck but I can not for the life of me recall where or what
it was. We joked for a while that traveling with her would be a risky
proposition because she seemed to attract danger.
Royal babies
aren't born all that often and the English love and revere their Monarchs. We
all do really.
The English
adore their Kings and Queens but in general it is the Princes and
Princesses who are the most cherished. Most girls like Princesses - little
girls and big girls. This is because of the romanticism involved in Fairy Tale
monarchies and the stories we read to our children. These are the same stories
that were read to us by our parents and that were read to them by our
grandparents - and on and on. Stories where Princesses in Towers were rescued
by dashing and heroic Princes who rode handsome white steeds. Cinderella
and Snow White and Sleeping Beauty.
Every little
girl dreamed of being a Princess and wearing a crown and having ladies in
waiting. They played being Princesses. They played their dreams.
A lot of
Australians still think of the English monarchs as being 'ours'. Sort of. We
liked Lady Di and Fergie and we really liked the Queen Mother. She was very
cute and cuddly and she was a sweet little nanna. We really really like Prince
Harry - even though he is a ginger. We really really like Pippa too even though
we know she is not a Royal but we consider her Royalish though.
We think Pippa
and Harry could hit it off. The majority of Australians think that Harry would
have had a crack at Pippa at the Wedding or at the after party - for sure.
Australians would like to see Harry marry Pippa and create some Royal history
by brothers marrying sisters. We think that the English would go mad for it.
We don't
really like Camilla but we have accepted her.
When I was
getting a coffee this morning I asked one of the English that I work with if he
knew that when the throne of the current Queen is handed over to her son
Charles - and he becomes King - would she then be referred to as the King's
Mother? I also asked him if he thought whether the twenty second of July would
one day be a Bank Holiday - for the King's birthday.
His response
rather took me by surprise. He told me that he didn't know but he said this in
a rather contemptuous way. He spat it out at me. I thought his hostility and
defensiveness was unnecessary and uncalled for. These are genuine questions and
I was not mocking. When I told him that I thought that his disdainful response
was unwarranted he made some English scoffing noises at me and then he rudely
walked off.
Fucker.
Australians liked
the Royal Wedding. We joined up with the New Zealanders in Singapore and
we banded with the English for their moment. We tuned in to watch Kate and
Williams wedding with them. We watched it beamed in live on a cinema sized
screen in a British pub and it was on every TV in every bar on the Island. I
recall many of the English getting all dressed up in Union Jack stuff. I
remember witnessing them weeping gin enhanced tears of joy watching the four
hour ceremony. My normally dour and hard friend the Hammer sobbed throughout.
The Hammer is a giant of a man who is from Lancashire - he is a Northerner and
they rarely laugh or cry.
We all thought
the Royal Wedding was beautiful.
OK it is
7.15pm local time and the Royal baby is leaving hospital with Kate and William.
I am watching it live on television on the BBC channel. Mum looks a bit tired
but otherwise well and the baby looks like a baby. The flash of cameras is
extraordinary and the crowd has gone wild. Hysterical Paparazzi are calling out
to the Prince and Kate and asking for the name of the child. The Prince
smilingly informed all that they were undecided yet.
Prince William
speaks very posh and he is the spitting image of his father Charles but he
looks nothing like his brother Harry the redhead.
The
announcement of name of the Royal Baby will be the next BIG part of the frenzy.
I suspect there will be many thousands of the monarch fanatic zealots camped
out at the gates of Buckingham Palace for the next few days. They will be
waiting to witness a Royal announcement from the Royal palace. It will be one
of their "I was there" events.
We Colonials
are of British stock - albeit the convict type. Remote and wild Australia was
the dumping ground for convicts by the English in the early part of the
nineteenth century. Deportation was considered by many to be a punishment worse
than death. The English jails were overflowing because the English Political
and Judicial system had gone mad. It still is. Thousands of people were
unemployed and starving and harsh and crazy laws were in place. Adults and
children were imprisoned for stealing loaves of bread and some were sent to the
other side of the world. They were sent to Australia.
This was the
establishment of White Australia - two hundred years ago. Black Australia had
already been around for many thousands of years and the land belongs to them.
A lot of the
world loves British Royals. When I strolled past Buckingham Palace early
yesterday evening I saw the crowds that were at the Gates waiting for the news.
There were thousands of people gathered. The news of the birth of the Royal
Baby came from the St Mary's hospital so these people at the Palace must just
be fanatic Royalists. They are zealots.
Royalty is mostly
revered where it still exists and particularly by the English - however the
people of Thailand adore their Royal family and so too do the Danes and Swedes
and the Dutch.
Royalty once
commanded nations and a single family or person made decisions for the masses.
They decided Laws and Taxes and Wars and they commanded armies. They are all mostly
powerless figureheads now and politicians dictate law and serve the
people.
Sometimes in
Democracies.
It must be
very strange being part of a Royal family. They are very closely scrutinized it
seems, and they have little privacy. Every aspect of their lives is known to
the population and it is reported in the media. There have been scandals and
mysteries. In recent times there have been the mysterious crash that claimed Princess
Diana, there was her torrid affair with a red-headed Army Office, there was an
episode of toe sucking involving Fergie, Nazi salutes by the Ginger Prince
Harry and photos of a topless Kate. It is a living soap opera that is
impossible not to like.
The English
can't get enough of it.
I am very much
hoping that the name of the Royal baby will be announced before I depart London
on the weekend. I wish to get some Royal Baby memorabilia. Some tea towels and
a bathmat and some mugs and spoons.
Reminders that
I was there for it.
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