The streets were deserted, the buses empty and so was my local pub which had opened earlier out of respect or maybe in the hope of pulling in a few more punters. As it turned out there was only me with a jug of ale, a book of verse and a thou (barmaid).
I watched the funeral procession which was like Wagner's Ring Circle and seemed to last twice as long albeit with lots of soldiers, sailors and airmen in their colourful uniforms - a bit like a light operetta in slow motion.
The existing members of the family sported their medals as if they'd been awarded a medal for every time they'd (if ever) had breakfast in the, appropriately named Mess. As I recall from my RAF days at RAF Manby, I too should have been awarded medals for gallantry after eating some of those breakfasts - "Who called the cook a c..t?" - "Who called the c..t a cook?" - a VC no less should have been my reward!
However, I digress and I can't help but wonder how different it may have been if the Late Princess Margaret had jumped the queue and became Queen.
The ceremonial procession would have had the band playing Basie numbers with the Rolling Stones bringing up the rear - now that would have really been a right royal send off!
Still that is all what might have been and posted in what has been possibly an irreverent look at a day of both sorrow and glorious remembrance. We will never know her like again - Lance
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