Attended a Royalist tea party the other day. Friendly neighbors of in-laws in England celebrating 60 years of Elizabeth's rule. Wandering down the street and they waved us up to join them. You have to wonder why anybody would celebrate. Ten million pounds (over $15 million) just for the celebration, not to mention the day-to-day upkeep of the whole in-bred family. Then there's the recession and all. Kinda like a hurricane party, I guess.
But the very nice man whose patio we were on said, grinning from ear to ear, "Somebody said to me the other day, I didn't know you were a Royalist. I said, I thought we all were!" I was fascinated. "She pledged herself to us 60 years ago," he beamed, "and she has never wavered from that."
Hm. "Well," I offered cautiously, "what else would she do if she left that position?"
"Eh?" asked her enthusiast, looking as if he must not have heard me right.
"I mean, she's not going to get a job washing dishes, is she?"
He stared at me. "She meets with the Prime Minister every week," he said cheerily, pointing at the corners of his mouth, "and she has to smile..."
Ah, well. "It is a long time," I said.
Later someone was describing a choir of black children singing for the Queen, and how beautiful it was. "Reminds you of the Old Empire," interjected my enthusiatic friend above. Ugh.
Strange, someone else told me later, the same hard-working man had been spotted on a train once before trying to persuade someone to go on strike with him. The assumption was that the guy was bright, knew what time it was, and was anything but a brainless bootlicking lemming. And all that may yet be.
Just goes to show, just because someobody knows what side of the bread their butter is on one day, the next day they may well cheer with the mob at their own hanging - if the executioner waves the right flag.