Coronation Tea

“Coronation Coffee” would have been the perfect alliterative title for this post but, alas, that was not to be, for we are—having just finished watching the Coronation—making our way into town, through the rain, hoping to find a cordial café, and a nice cup of tea.

The Coronation has been, well, everywhere, these past few weeks, coming to a crescendo this morning as the actual event unfolded. As an American, I’m a bit of a Royalist, but I couldn’t be arsed to care about the crowning of Charlie the Third. I didn’t even put out my bunting, and I commiserated with my wife when she noted that the festivities were to be aired on BBC1, BBC2, ITV, and SKY, as if nothing else of note was happening in the world. I, therefore, retired to my office, while my wife tuned in to watch the spectacle. And, after a few minutes, I joined her. And I’m glad I did.

First of all, when was the last time you saw a coronation? Unless you were born during The War, my guess is: never. Queen Elizabeth II’s coronation was in 1953, and was the first ever to be televised. This, of course, encouraged millions of people to rush out and buy a telly, or become suddenly acquainted with their neighbours, or reconcile with estranged relatives. This coronation, some 70 years later, finds droves of people filming it themselves on mobile phones, which is a good indicator of how much time has passed.

Secondly, the weather was perfect: cool, cloudy and raining. Nothing says “Britain” like hundreds of soldiers in red uniforms wearing bearskin hats marching in the rain. And frankly, I think the men in the bearskin hats would prefer it to be cool and cloudy rather than hot and sunny when they are parading in those outfits. The sight of a mile-long (no exaggeration) entourage starting up as one was something to see.

And finally, what a spectacle! I hadn’t actually meant to watch it, I just went into the living room to ask my wife a question, and was immediately captivated. Where else can you find such an unabashed show of unimaginable opulence and fairytale-esque pageantry? There were men, with long trumpets, blowing fanfares. There were people in ceremonial robes. There was a jewelled sword and some sacred stirrups (no, I am not making this up). There was the Stone of Destiny (shades of Harry Potter) under the Coronation chair, which was first used in 1308. There was a single White Glove (M. Jackson, anyone?), a secret anointing ceremony—concealed behind some tasteful screens, not a crime-scene tent as I had imagined—wherein God transferred the micro-management of the Kingdom to Charles, a jewel-encrusted hat weighing five pounds, and a six-ton, gold-plated, Cinderella-carriage pulled by a team of white horses with blue manes.

The elf queen (sorry, that’s Penny Mordant) presenting the jewelled sword.

Cinderella’s carriage, on loan to the Windsor’s.

Seriously, I would have kicked myself if I had missed it (although, I’m glad I wasn’t actually there).

“Excuse me, I need to go to the loo!”

So now, having watched all five hours of it, we have left the flat—with “God save the King!” and “Hip Hip Hooray” still ringing in our ears—to wend our way through the drizzle to the town centre. The roads, and the park, seem strangely quiet, and I wonder how many others chose to spend the day inside glued to the telly. (Though I think the weather might have been a factor in keeping people out of the park.)

Not many punters on the Tea-Cup ride this afternoon.

The Town Centre, however, is about as busy as you would expect on a rainy Saturday afternoon. The Market is doing a lacklustre business, with several stallholders already packing it in, and there are more people inside the mall than outside it. Our luck is in, however, as there is a free table at our favourite café.

Happiness is, a table at our favourite tea shop.

And the tea, as usual, is excellent.