The Final Good-bye; The Queen’s Funeral and Procession

Hello, dear readers. In the ensuing days since the announcement of Queen Elizabeth’s demise, the media has been careful to cover her final progress throughout the country. I was amazed to learn that once the coffin made it to London, the queue to view it reached a record-breaking 24-hour-long wait at its longest. One saw so many people shuffling past the coffin in quiet respect wearing running or walking shoes with a backpack slung over their shoulders. That was not a consequence of bad fashion choices but of necessity, with the most likely contents of these rucksacks being provisions such as water and protein bars, snacks, or fruit. I read that David Beckham, a famous soccer (football) athlete, didn’t play the celebrity card and waited with everyone else for 12 hours to pay his last respects. I may not be a soccer fan, but now I’m a fan of David Beckham.

Photo credit: enews.com.ng

The funeral service was dignified as she would have wanted. As the pallbearers carried that weight so carefully, I wondered about their collective blood pressures. That was such an honored position and even though it was practiced over and over, you know at least one was probably thinking “So-and-so better not screw this up” or “I better not screw this up”, and that couldn’t have made for an easy night of sleep beforehand. Thank goodness, no gaffes from this viewer were noted. They will be talking about their participation in this for the rest of their lives – and rightly so. It’s not every day one helps such a notable monarch to their final resting place. Good job, kind sirs.

The walking procession was, for the most part, somber, fitting the event, but I was confused by the occasional sporadic clapping on certain parts of the route. Naturally, we want to celebrate the Queen’s life and achievements, but a funeral procession is not the place to do it. This was her last progress. Anywhere. I’m generally not big on any protocol for most events, but when it’s someone’s last huzzah, rules need to be followed. If perhaps, Queen Elizabeth had been what most of us would call a “free spirit”, then maybe a more lively service would have been called for, but she helped engineer this, even designing the special hearse that would transport her corporeal remains. No court jesters or mimes to work the crowds called for here. To soften this criticism, I imagine the people who were clapping meant no disrespect, but it did feel weird to me.

On a more practical note, I sure hope the Queen’s guards and the dignitaries who marched along had inserted sturdy foot support for their arches and were wearing band-aids on their heels. From my experience in the military, uniform dress shoes were not made for walking long distances and could be quite uncomfortable. There was at least one dignitary who was a woman…wearing heels. OUCH! I’m sure she kept the long walk in mind and did what she could to ameliorate the effect of wearing fashionable footwear, but her feet are certainly aching tonight.

I must honestly say I’ve never heard a dirge played until now. I thought I had until I saw this funeral. And now we know why it’s called a “dirge”. Even spoken, the word comes out of tight lips wrapped around the consonant d, a short “er” to the softened g. I am going to hear those few bars, repeated over and over, in my head for a day or two.

As the hearse reached Windsor Castle, flowers on the hood and roof that were tossed by mourners as it slowly passed by the crowd were looking slightly wilted, which only lent to the sadness and finality marking this occasion. Strangely enough for me, what truly noted the end of it all was when the crown, the scepter, and the orb were removed from the coffin and then placed on the purple pillows, and the breaking of the Wand of Office. I cried all over again. I’m not a big fan of jewelry, expensive geegaws, and what-not, but these were symbols of the office of the monarch. They will await their next keeper, King Charles, at his coronation. King Charles III will not have the luxury of time on his hands, but there are those of us who have high hopes that he will fulfill his station as well as his mother, if not in an entirely different fashion.

It was a grand funeral with everyone, even the youngest royals, on their best behavior. Heads of governments from all over the world showed and put on their best face. No public squabbles or harsh opinions, only words of sympathy were exchanged. This was a once in a lifetime event. Even if King Charles III were to die next year (no, we don’t want that to happen), there would not be the same unification this death has brought. We wait to see what he will do with his reign. God Save The King.

I Spoke Too Soon

I wanted to end the summer without having to write a post like this, but here we are again, in the middle of another fire, and this one is worse than last year’s event. That was a mere 2,169 acres, whereas this monster is currently at 46,587 acres and is only 10% contained, meaning 2,397 firefighters and all their efforts have barely made a dent in it. This is just a couple of mountain ridges over from my home, about 7 miles as the crow flies. Way too close. Like last year, we’re just waiting. We have packed as much as we can so if we find ourselves being evacuated, it will take a few minutes and we’ll be good to go. In the meantime, we watch our apps and sleep fitfully, if at all.

Photo credit: Laura Vann

I had written a post in July with high hopes of seeing out the fire season on a quiet note, but nature had other plans. Damnit.

Oppressive yellow smoky skies.

Smoke plume seen while out walking. The skies were still blue.

As of 09/11/22. The dotted black lines represent Placer County’s boundaries.

What’s upsetting about all this is you just don’t know how it’s going to end. It’s almost like watching a thriller movie slowly unfold before you – except this is real. The edge-of-your-seat feeling doesn’t go away after 90 minutes, it just keeps going on and on. It almost makes you wish you were evacuated – almost. Having a quick resolution is what you really want, though, and that’s not going to happen with this beast.

Until next time, dear readers.

Yarn Thoughts

Hey, hey my crafty readers! I’m going to rile the feathers of some of you out there today with this post. Not with malice aforethought, but with careful consideration and preference.

Over the years I have discovered something truly tragic and erroneous about our yarn crafts. With cooler weather staring us in the face – (well, for some of us, it’s down the street, peeking around the corner) – many of you will be lining up your knit and/or crochet projects for the season ahead. As you pore through the plethora of patterns you purchased over the summer or saved on your Pinterest boards, the culling will begin. Some patterns will have you scratching your head as you ponder what you were thinking when you bought it, others will make your fingers tingle to feel needles clacking in your hands. Once you have decided on the projects, the search for the perfect yarn will commence. For most of us, there will be a compromise. Not having an unlimited budget for the yarn, we still opt for wool, usually larger company wool so it is somewhat more affordable. The atelier shops online with their lovely, squishy skeins of yarn are usually reserved for the smaller projects such as socks, mitts, or hats. Usually. Every so often we’ll splurge on an especially pretty sweater, cardigan, duster, what have you, but by and large, we’re looking for a bargain.

I can almost see you, dear reader, nodding your head in agreement and thinking, “Yes, we’re with you. What’s your point?” Well…….I truly hesitate to say this, but IthinkI’mgoingtoswitchovertoacrylics. There! I said it. I have spoken yarn heresy! But before you press the comment button to tell me how wrong I am, hear me out. I shall start with the projects that made me change my mind.

It began with my first top-down sweater project, Zweig, a lovely knit lace and fair isle sweater created by Boyland Knits. It took me a year of on-again/off-again knitting. I loved it. I finished it in May, and by sweater weather season, this beauty had been ravaged by moths. I had to throw it away.

My first major heartbreak!

Next is the maintenance of it all. Handwashing and laying your work flat to dry in the winter (when you’ll be wearing these beauties) means taking up a lot of real estate on my kitchen counter or table for days. I don’t know about you, but that’s not a viable option, especially if you’ve got more than one item drying. That makes it untenable. Then there’s the storage issue. After the moth incident, I am careful now to pack away all my wool sweaters in the only appropriate bag I’ve got.

Really?

Granted, these reasons alone may not have been compelling enough for me to switch out as I plan to do unless I hadn’t used acrylic as a last-ditch effort. While making my very favorite sweater of all time, Halibut, another Boyland Knits creation, I was truly strapped for funds. As it happened, I found some compatible acrylic yarn buried away in some sad neglected corner of my closet. It had been gifted to me by a friend when she moved and had to do some serious stash reduction. I went ahead with the project and have been seriously pleased with the results. But the best part of all for me is when it comes time to wash it and store it. I throw it in the washer and then the dryer and smush it all up on a shelf, just like the rest of my clothes. I am more inclined to wear it not only because I love the design, but because it’s just so easy to care for…or not care for, however you want to look at it. It’s not an heirloom that I fret over when I’m wearing it because it cost so much to make, it’s a living, wearable piece of art.

Crammed in the corner by the high-maintenance yarn sweaters!

So smack me down if you must in the comments, but know that after I use up my pretty, squishy, and expensive wool yarn that I did buy already, it’s going to be acrylics for practicality. At least for a while.

In the meantime, here is a freebie pattern for mittens that you may use whatever type of worsted yarn you want!

Click here for the pattern

Enjoy!

Good Bye

After a historically long reign of 70 years, Queen Elizabeth II passed away today, September 8, 2022, at the age of 96 years old. Such sad news. She fulfilled the oath she gave as a princess of the realm at the youthful age of 21 to serve her people throughout her whole life, be it long or short, even meeting with the most recent Prime Minister a mere two days ago. Dutiful to the end.

Complete with the outtakes. ^

Asking Prime Minister Truss to form a government in her name.

As leaders of nations post their condolences, remembrances, and high praise of her service, her surviving family must be keening. I send my condolences. Personally, I always believed she would make it to 100 and even longer because her mother, the Queen Mother, lived for so long. That, and I didn’t want to see her go. But we all fall victim to the vicissitudes of time, even royalty.

I did shed a few tears when I saw the notification on my homepage, and no, it was not a mawkish display of hysterics. It was more like a shock, and the realization that this was the passing of an era she represented. Her Majesty was always a picture of calm sensibility in the media storms that ravaged her reign and a kind presence in a world that is mean and vengeful. I may not have known her personally, but she was always in my world from the time I became aware that there was a country that actually had a queen.

I shall miss her lovely smile.

Now you know what she always carried in her purse!

Gearing Up and Another Freebie

Hello, once again, dear readers. As summer draws to a close, many of us here in Northern California are waiting with great anticipation for the first rain that always comes with the cooler weather. So far, the fires in the general area have all been stopped with no building damage or loss of life – thank God. There has been only one smoke-filled day this season; otherwise, it’s been wonderful. That’s a change from the last two years when we experienced months of choking smoke during the fire season. Meanwhile, we still have to finish out August and most of September for a relaxation of fire vigilance. Only when Placer County allows fire days are we assured that it would be highly unlikely for a raging inferno to start. Fingers crossed that our luck holds this year.

As many of you who read my posts consistently throughout the year may remember in October and November I find local crafts fairs to sell my goodies and enter those that I can afford. Some are worth the money, and some aren’t. As always, I will be at Bierwagen’s Pumpkin Patch in Chicago Park every weekend in October.

Opening weekend 2021

Delicata and acorn squash, among others

Pleasant fall scenery for my lunch walks

Getting the inventory nice and plump throughout the year was my goal, and I believe I have accomplished this. I absolutely hate knitting and crocheting while I’m under the gun; it’s no fun. I now have enough for my opening weekend and perhaps the next, depending on the crowd’s mood. With historically high inflation rates hitting most of us hard in the pocket, I may have enough inventory for the whole month. In any case, I am looking forward to it. As you can see by the pics, it’s a country thing.

Part of the fun of selling your wares in an open market comes from getting ideas about what to make. There are perennial favorites, such as the Fringed Palindrome Cowl that will always sell, but you want to mix it up. With that in mind, I whipped up this fun and tremendously easy beanie with the beginner in mind. Presenting (drum roll) the Chutes and Ladders Beanie. As with most of my patterns, this is an adult size. To modify for size, go up or down by sets of 4 stitches.

Whips up fast and made with super bulky yarn so it will keep you warm

Hope you use this pattern for your next mini-project.

How Much More?

I have been holding out on you, dear readers. The last several posts I have published have mentioned nothing of what’s been preying on my mind 24/7.  I discovered that a dear friend of mine whom I have known and loved for over 50 years has stage 4 widespread metastatic cancer. The origin cancer is still yet to be fully determined.

When I first found out I didn’t know what to do. I found myself out in the yard pulling weeds and crying. You know the type of crying when your tears and snot end up in your mouth because you can’t be bothered to stop the flow. However, I have not spoken to her yet. I found out about this horrid dilemma because I texted her to say hello and to complain about some health issues I’ve been experiencing and became concerned after two days that there’d been no response. Only after reaching out to her children did I find out what was going on, and that it had been going on for the last two months. I’ve tried communicating with my friend through texts, phone calls, and even FB messenger. Nothing. We have not been in regular contact over the last several years because 300 miles over 15 years has taken its toll on the relationship, but still…

We went through puberty together, did hot-water facials together, went to concerts together, and even almost joined the military together. She backed out and I carried forward with an enlistment in the United States Air Force. From there, our lives diverged. I went away and lived in other parts of the world. When I was in England, she wrote me a letter that had a little illustration of her baby bump to tell me she was pregnant with her first child. I still have that letter somewhere…I remember thinking “Kids?! Nope. Not happening to me.” Four years later, when I was in the same predicament, I turned to her for guidance. Did she have morning sickness, pelvic pain, breast tenderness? All her pregnancies were easy; my one was difficult. After returning to California and “home”, we went through our children’s upheavals, predicaments, pains, awkward phases, and all that parenthood entails together. We sought each other’s opinions, and sometimes we took them to heart, but mostly we did what we were already going to do – as is normal with human beings. We spent most weekends together, playing Yahtzee, and Tomb Raider, barbecuing, and chatting about our lives in general. When our children started leaving the nest (and returning) and making their own adult mistakes, we postulated how they should be going about their lives, and what we would do according to our experience, and we both realized that none of this wisdom could be imparted because, as painful as it is, our children must live their own lives.

When her youngest child hit his mid-teens she started working full-time. I had always worked because childcare for one child was way less expensive than for four children, and so were the tax breaks. Whereas she always had a significant tax return every year, we were lucky if we didn’t pay too much. This was also when she started being too tired for the weekend romps. I remember her asking “How did you do it?” I answered quite simply. “Because that’s the only time I could see you.” Our relationship started changing then, as most of her social contacts were at work or nearby in her immediate neighborhood.

As the housing crisis of 2007-2008 deepened, it became apparent that we would have to move to follow the work in order for us to stay indoors. More than anything, – my family, my fun job, my sense of security, – I didn’t want to leave my friend. Not again. I railed at fate, at the economy, at our debt, but there was nothing else for it. It took several years of living in Northern California before I felt I was home. Initially, I visited my family and friends in southern California frequently, and each time I did, I felt the longing to return to my home in the north grow stronger and stronger. Conversely, the excursions became less and less.

I last saw her in 2018.

We all die, but for most of us, it’s a vague notion, an event that will happen later – always later. We don’t know how to come to grips with our own mortality, especially in this day and age of constant distraction, so we ignore it. Then this happens.

Am I wrong to feel hurt that she hasn’t contacted me? I have no idea where her mind is right now. She has always been pragmatic, reasonable, and level-headed. Maybe she didn’t want to worry me without a complete diagnosis and prognosis? I don’t know. She may not have even thought of me during this travail as we’ve grown apart. I don’t know. What I do know is that this journey she must travel is about her, not me. I must focus on that. It won’t make the hurt any less, but I realize she must do what is good for her. In the meantime, I am still holding out hope that her cancer will respond positively to the chemo that she’ll be going through, or at least extend her timeline.

So there. I’ve unloaded on you all and had another cry while doing it.

No News is Good News

It’s mid-July here in the Sierra Nevadas in Northern California and all eyes are scanning the horizons. Wildfire vigilance is on high as we all watch for any puff of smoke or an errant lick of flame. As I’m sitting here on my deck, enjoying the cerulean blue of an undisturbed sky my thoughts are not of the light fluffy variety; more along the lines of “where’s the next fire and how quickly will it be doused”? Yes, there have been some large fires so far this year, but all have been contained, the Rices, Bridgeport area being the largest at 904 acres with 13 structures destroyed. Right now as I view YubaNet.Com/fires, it looks like all is quiet on the western front.

I would like to think that the lull is a combination of a cooler than normal start to the summer, education, brush and forest clearing, and just plain reverence for the magnitude of a fire that’s gone out of control. Still, I also know there are people who are pyromaniacs and also people who just don’t give a hell that they’re destroying not only the environment in general, but the habitat of the wildlife in the woods, and the homes of humans, and endangering lives. But I guess that’s all in a day’s work for an asshole who enjoys it. Good job.

In the meantime my reputation as a knitter is growing. I live in a small community and I’m being tagged in Facebook groups when people need help with a project or restoration of a beloved item. I generally don’t mind helping people, but I’m actually afraid to be considered an expert when I know I’m an advanced beginner. In these two instances, though, I didn’t feel that I could actually say “no”…

The Christmas sock was for an overwhelmed young mother, the restoration was for a woman whose mother had knit the mitts and has since passed away.

Life goes on. Here are some random pics:

Miss American Beauty

Investigating the kiddie pool

Plenty of thorny blackberry bushes around!

Double Delight

Chrysler Imperial

As there isn’t a whole bunch of light on my lot, the roses and anything else I grow tends of be on the reedy side…except for the damn blackberries!

Hope all is well in your neck of the woods.

A Bear, or; my last post was a bit of a downer

I have to admit, dear reader, that I seriously waffled about posting my last entry. As you can see, I ultimately decided to go ahead. This is what is happening, but it did come off as a tad dark, even when I tried to lighten the mood. My Tecumseh Sweater didn’t even catch a break!

So let me tell you a little story. My place on Hayford Hill is adjacent to a canal. It’s a little one that is fed from further up in the mountains – mostly snow melt. I walk my dogs here on occasion, but because it makes for a very long walk, I don’t do it every day.

I’m not worried about my doggies falling in – I can always go in after them!

Every so often a noisy train comes through

Where the path intersects with the railroad property

Near the beginning of the trail

This is my blue heaven…tempered with a quite real potential wildfire hell

So you see it’s a lovely walk

Living in this environment, aside from the ever-present fire danger, has other considerations as well. As there are only a few streets of houses set in the middle of the forest, one of them is the presence of wildlife. I remember being so pleased seeing deer grazing in my yard for the first time – until I realized they were also eating my roses. The raccoons and bears scavenge garbage, so we keep it in the garage as late as we can before the waste management truck comes to pick it up otherwise the ravens will pluck at the bags and litter the area with your refuse once you put it down on the street. One must also be very careful about mountain lions. I’ve learned how to weaponize the dog leashes, but that only works if the dogs are not hooked to them – and then there’s the problem of the dogs. I know my old Queensland Heeler, Jay-jay, would try to defend me, and that would only create more problems.

So far, so good – no mountain lions.

One day back in May, I decided to take only Jay-jay for a walk and to leave my little chihuahuas at home. I like to mix it up on occasion. I’m so very glad I did. While blithely strolling along the canal, thinking random thoughts, Jay-jay unleashed and free to investigate every little thing so he was far behind me, it happened. As indicated by some of the images I posted, you can see the canal trail is usually elevated above the railroad paths, and they converge sometimes. I’m sure I was thinking of a random song when movement in my peripheral vision caught my attention.

A beautiful, big, brown shaggy bear was loping on the road about 20 feet below me, headed in the opposite direction. I stopped in my tracks, mind blank, the song I was humming, lost. He looked up at me and also stopped, but just for a fraction of a second. He picked up his front legs, and within that nano breath, I wondered if he meant to charge up the mountain after me. He did not. He merely used this as a means to pick up speed and run away from me.

I breathed.

It was then I realized that Jay-jay had not seen the bear, and I looked around to locate him. He was investigating some interesting scent on the road, totally oblivious to what had just happened. I called to him to distract him lest he hear, see, or smell anything amiss. I did not want him to pursue that bear; it would not end well for him. Fortunately, I was able to dissuade what must have been a passing notion for him, because after a small pause and a whiff of the air, he came trotting to me and I somehow found the mettle to continue my walk. My heart beat a furious tattoo for around 10 minutes because of that “fight or flight” reaction we all have, and I found it quite difficult to maintain a normal gait.

Once my head cleared a little, I was texting my husband, my daughter, my sister, and a few tight friends. My daughter only laughed, my sister sent a “wow” emoji, my husband asked if I was ok, and my friends expressed concern. I must admit I was proud of myself for not pooping or peeing my pants!

After that innocuous event, and living where I do, you would think walks along the canal would continue as usual. They did not. On that very same day, I saw posts on Facebook about mountain lion sightings in the neighborhood, and the images showed BIG cats. In light of that, I thought, yeaaaaa…no. So I gave it a rest.

But time marches on, and the canal was calling, so yesterday, after a month and a half, I grabbed up all my dogs and we walked the walk. No bears nor big cats were sighted, as usual. I must admit seeing the bear was a thrilling experience and the animal was beautiful, but I would prefer to keep it as a one-off. I suspect the bears would like to keep it that way too!

Still Here

Hello, dear readers. With life’s ups and downs, news so horrific that seems to continue ad infinitum, and see-sawing markets reacting to all the events, it’s been a queasy ride in the United States. Gas prices here in Northern California are among the nation’s highest, so we’re not doing a whole bunch of traveling. In fact, we’re wondering how we can afford to get to work.

But you see all this every time you go online or turn on your television. That’s enough of that. Take a deep breath from your diaphragm.

A few months back I was seriously thinking of a move. I felt the need to get away from the seasonal fires and to downsize. As it turned out, I never found anything that I liked well enough to induce me to leave here, and in the meantime, interest rates and prices continued to climb. So here we stay. I can’t say I’m too disappointed. It’s still beautiful…when it’s not smothered in choking smoke.

No smoke yet this year!

Working on the background

A bit of good news – I finished the modified Tecumseh sweater! I’m thinking I will not change yarn weight ever again when working on a project. As you can see, it looks ok. What is not seen in these pics was how absolutely wide it was! It wasn’t really warming because it was allowing the cold air to seep in at the bottom.

I was so very unhappy with how wide it was I threw it in the washer and dryer. And yes, it is 100% wool.

Came out with this. The length, which I liked, was shrunk, and it’s still way too wide!! I don’t know if I want to wear this again or not. At least I got a nice beanie out of it!

But personal projects are now on the back-burner because, yes, it’s that time of year again when I start building my inventory for the crafts sales for Christmas. Well, all except for one. I’ve been wanting to make this forever and it is so easy, I figured, eh, why not?

“Blue Jean Baby” Poncho

Some color modification, but it’s going splendidly!

So this is how I am dealing with a societal meltdown. How about you? What are you doing to keep it together?

Tea With The Queen

As you read the title of this post, you know to which queen I’m referring. Not Queen Beatrice of the Netherlands, not Queen Margrethe, Denmark’s first queen, and no, not even Priscilla, Queen of the Desert. Of course, I’m speaking of Elizabeth the Second, by the Grace of God, of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland, and of Her other Realms and Territories Queen, Head of the Commonwealth, Defender of the Faith. The most famous person in the world, God bless her.

While watching the movie, “The Queen” for the 50th time, I was reminded that the movie itself was made in 2006, and the events that it is based around happened 25 years ago. Queen Elizabeth has been around all my 59 years. There have been births, deaths, divorces, and drama in my family while she has been on the throne. She’s been a constant in the very fluid and ever-changing panoply of celebrities, politicians, and people of renown for over 70 years, and is a personal favorite of mine.

While working at my last job, I brought up the subject of Queen Elizabeth II in an off-hand manner. You know work environments where one is in a cubicle and can easily converse with others through the thin divide and many varied subjects are discussed amongst the group while the more mundane tasks are being handled? Yea, it was that kind of office, that kind of day. I was surprised to discover that everyone was just as obsessed as I was. Even the fantasy of moving to England and working as a maid in Buckingham Palace was a shared one. I laughed. I am an American. The women in the office were American. Our country broke away from England and the many taxations, wrong-doings, and general tyranny of that particular monarchist system over 240 some-odd years ago; and yet, here we all were, working American women, willing to back it all up to be a servant in the Queen’s service.

The type of person who inspires this devotion, at least in the office where I worked, and I suspect, around the world, is truly special. Queen Elizabeth has every luxury available to her, has every privilege, and an amazing amount of us don’t resent it. Again, being an American, my taxes don’t pay for her estates, travel, servants, food, upkeep, etc., so I don’t know how much that statement means; however, it does appear to me that a goodly portion of British and Commonwealth subjects are fine with it, and I can see why.

People fortunate enough to meet her remark on her sense of humor and graciousness.

Being one of the most photographed humans will inevitably mean there are images like this!

Last year alone, it is estimated she met 50,000 of these lucky people. That’s a lot of smiling and talking. And her daily schedule would have a much younger person worn out. (Yes, the article in the link is a few years old, but still…)Furthermore, Queen Elizabeth has always maintained her composure, and that cannot be easy. While I mentioned in an earlier paragraph about all the events that have happened in my life while she’s been around, her personal drama has been way more intense over the years, if nothing else, because of her celebrity. Never a crack in the public royal facade, never an improper statement, never an emotional meltdown, not even a tiny one. How easy it would have been; but then, she wouldn’t be the sovereign we’ve all come to expect. This same “stiff upper lip” approach to public image cannot be said of her late husband, Prince Philip, nor her children or grandchildren. To always be so British, so correct, must be an extremely onerous task that most of us mere mortals cannot even begin to bear. That takes so much out of a person.

As celebrations for her Platinum Jubilee approach, her ailing health has made it more difficult for her to make public appearances. I hope beyond hope that these are temporary setbacks, exacerbated by her brush with COVID, that soon she will be out walking the grounds at her beloved Windsor Castle with her dear Dorgis/Corgis. Unfortunately, that’s not being intimated by the royal press. It would appear that my tea with the Queen may never happen…as if.

If you’re thinking you’d like to get involved with the events that are happening in Great Britain and abroad for the Jubilee, look no further than here. In the meantime, long live the Queen!