England

Saturday, June 14

I had to see The King. There was the lifetime of study to consider, along with the responsibility to keep you, my readers, entertained. I wrestled with the question of how to accomplish the improbable. Perhaps a public appearance? How about a charity function? Maybe I could encounter him on a hike? After weighing the options, I decided to go big or go home. My goal would be to see King Charles III at the largest ceremony of the year: his birthday celebration. Thousands of people line the road hoping to get a glance of the royal carriage. The idea sounded like a possibility. I could arrive several hours early and wait at the barricade. However, crushing crowds can be unpleasant and there was no guarantee of success. As I researched more, I learned that the event begins at Horse Guards Parade where the King personally inspects his troops. Perfect! I could witness the regalia from the comfort of a VIP area. Sign me up! But, silly American, it’s not that easy. The space is very limited. It is reserved for royalty, military, and dignitaries. The few remaining seats are offered by ballot only. I hopefully submitted my name. What I didn’t know was that 250,000 other people did the same thing. Like Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory, I eagerly anticipated the day when they drew the ballots. Sadly, I was disheartened to learn that mine was not selected. There would be no golden ticket for me, thus no birthday celebration.

But, if I would have taken no for an answer, I wouldn’t be able to show you my seat from inside the secured area. Here’s my view from Trooping the Colour.

Before I show more, let me share the wording on the invitation:

You are reminded this is a formal parade that is attended by The King and senior members of the military. The acceptable orders of dress are morning suit or lounge suit with a tie for gentlemen and formal day dress for ladies.

The statement proposed two challenges. First, I pack lightly, so how was I supposed to fit all of that into my pocket? Second, what the hell is a morning suit and a lounge suit? I’m from Ohio. I only know three kinds of suits: normal, tuxedo, and my birthday suit. With more research and help from Amazon, I dressed in attire that can be optimistically described as the bare minimum. Luckily, they pitied this uncultured American and let me in.

The band was first to arrive, then 1400 soldiers behind them.

Next, came Catherine, Princess of Wales and her children Prince George, Prince Louis, and Princess Charlotte.

Then, King Charles and Queen Camilla arrived on the scene.

To give you an idea of the fashion, these were some of the ladies' hats in my section.

The King reviewed and saluted the troops.

There was more pageantry and music, then it was time to depart.

Through research beforehand, I knew the event wasn't over. All I needed to do was to stick with these dashing young chaps in front of me.

Since we were official guests of The King, we were the only ones permitted to follow his carriage up The Mall. While everyone else had to remain behind the barricades, we became the end of the parade itself.

Joining the smartly dressed gentlemen paid off. I ended up just behind the police line, at the front entrance of Buckingham Palace.

There were several military flyovers, culminating with the Red Arrows.

The Royal Family came out and greeted the crowd. There were rousing cheers of "Long live The King!" 

I quietly thought, "Happy birthday, Charles! ...and thank you for letting me crash your party!"

The King's celebration concluded in the early afternoon. I returned to the apartment for a rest, then embarked on my evening expedition.  

Historic Royal Palaces' mission is to keep the past alive. One of their summer fund-raisers is Hampton Court Palace Festival.

The Tudor palace's grounds are opened after hours for picnics and champagne. 

When the sun was preparing to set, the crowd slowly entered the courtyard area for the evening's concert.

The band is from England, and they are a true legend. They single-handedly shaped rock with gold records cherished worldwide. You know who I'm talking about. I couldn't believe I was in the presence of the one, the only, Bananarama. For anyone under 50, there's a slight possibility you recognize Cruel Summer or I Heard A Rumour. They still have a following with many t-shirts and even one Bananahead (see lower left).

With no disrespect to Bananarama, my primary goal was to see what a palace concert looked like. As I took the photo below, I wondered what Henry VIII would think about so many commoners welcomed into his home. More importantly, would he be a Bananahead?

I left early, so I was able to be alone with just the palace (along with Venus playing in the background). 500 years of history before me.

Goodnight London! 

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