Independent Lady

Lillibet, Lear and Love!

Well, The Queen is 80!
I am 50.
Her thirty year head start has given her castles, crowns and a sense of responsibility for a whole nation.
I am master of all I survey, but cannot claim her lineage.
So what does it all mean?
When members of the public say 'She means more to me than anything!, or contestants on Pop Idol say 'Winning means more than anything in the world', do they actually mean more important than their own families? If the 'Happiest day of a life' is meeting the Queen, and wishing her Happy Birthday, as she scuttles past cluthching her begloved hand to her heart in case one of her people try to shake it, then what about the day they got married or when their child was born?
I am reminded of Cordelia as she rebuked her Father saying that if she love him more than anyone, it would be a sad recognition of the commitment she made to her husband.

Who do we love most? The children we bear, the parent we loose, or the grandpa that bounced us on his knee and told us stories. Perhaps the dog that kept us quiet company and only showed unconditional love?
The strains and fragments of love we meet in this life bear poor witness to the pain of loss.

I watched an unremarkable film once, but one line echoes with wisdom and sense. 'It is a poor heart that only loves one person.'
Phew, that's a relief!
Otherwise I might be really up a creek without a paddle.
Not just because of my own canoe, but the rudderless actions of others who try to convince me of love.
So, I swear allegiance to the Queen as I did as a Girl Guide. As my sons did in the Army. As the crowd did at Windsor.
God Save the Queen, and spare a thought for you and I!

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