She fills 90 years in the day, Britain’s Queen Elizabeth. And she is, as you know, fit as a fiddle and more alert than most.
This summer she have big party, 10,000 are invited and they will be all jostling in Buckingham Palace’s park-like garden. I have been there in the summer party once and the event I have over the years succeeded in transforming several kilometers column text. Not to mention when she was on a state visit to Stockholm and I, among many journalists, got to meet her on the ship Britannia, which was anchored at Skeppsbrokajen.
The meeting has generated spaltmil and a whole book chapters. I have every reason to be grateful to her. Now the boat is sold, she cried when it happened, and it has been turned into a museum in Scotland. She may also lose soon.
When she was 21 years old she married the handsome Greek-Danish prince Philip. He will soon turn 95 and is still at her side, or rather, a few steps behind. He has, or had, their pages.
At 26 years, she became queen and set a record on the throne, September 9, 2015, when she had been sitting there for 63 years and 7 months and beat hence his great-grandmother queen Victoria, another tough woman.
She has four children and numerous grandchildren and great-grandchildren.
The only man in addition to Philip who knowingly sat on her bed named Michael Fagan. He settled there July 9, 1982 in the early morning and said that he would talk about his marital problems with her. How he managed to enter is even incomprehensible, she plunged in all cases in wild panic.
No matter that she in many ways had a very pleasant life, she is a tough lady. As never voted, never used seatbelt, helmet never, never jeans. Who have neither a passport or driver’s license even though she went around the many turns and although she was bilkårist during the war against the Nazis.
What we otherwise know about her?
Well, she is 157.5 centimeters high if she is not shrunk a little. That she loves her angry little welsh corgi mutt and all their racehorses. She gets a cup of tea every morning while she listens to his personal säckpipblåsare honking outside the window and the mere fact that she put up with it all these years is worth admiration. Then she writes in the paper a couple of hours, then it must be completed visit somewhere and it’s dinner time. If Philip is out and flutes, and if it is not the duty dinner at once, she often enjoy the meal on a tray in front of the TV. She likes comics like “Coronation Street” said it but I’ll bet that she, like me, peeked at the “Billion” lately.
What else? Besides that she is a duty of man by God’s grace and the symbolic head of state for the United Kingdom and Antigua and Barbuda, Australia, Bahamas, Barbados, Belize, Grenada, Jamaica, Canada, New Zealand, Papua New Guinea, Saint Kitts and Nevis, Saint Lucia, Saint Vincent and the Grenadines, Solomon Islands and Tuvalu?
There might not be so staggering much more to know. But she is, no matter what one thinks of monarchy, worthy of respect and admiration.
I knixar not royal, but in this case I am ready to make a unique exception and falls hereby into a deep mental REVERENCE. Happy birthday, Lilibeth, and God save the Queen!