Lynne Featherstone

After an impossible journey to Parliament (too long a story to go into) I found that the courtyard I needed to get across to get into the central part of the Commons was blocked off and guarded. The police seeing my despair moved the barrier and said ‘run’. So as I made for the far side of the courtyard as best I could in high heels – and glanced to my left through the arch – I saw the horses and state carriage bearing our monarch coming through towards the courtyard. I made it across just in time.

It is a kafuffle of the first order. The men in black who order our lives in the Commons and who know all the unwritten rules were at their smartest. The program for the day gave the timings of all events to the minute. Members of the Commons are meant to be in their seats waiting for Black Rod and under instructions not to hang around in Members’ lobby as that is cheating cos you can get in behind the procession as the Commons is summoned to the Lords.

Goody two shoes me – did hang out in the lobby – ‘cos last year by the time I got to the Lords to see Her Majesty deliver her speech – all I could see was the top of her Crown – about one centimetre to be precise. This year – vast improvement – all of her above the waist.

Whatever your view on the monarchy – and I in my older years accept that the order is unlikely to change (although I still plan to campaign to change the laws of accession – but somehow that never seems to be the most important thing to spend time on) – you cannot help but be fascinated by the pageant. I don’t know what it means or why there is some sort of comfort in traditions – but I guess that is why they have lasted so long. Maybe it just makes it seem like an ordered world under control – whereas the reality is what was in the Queen’s Speech was a mess of desperation.

The Government appears as a hamster on a wheel, with same old, same old tougher, action-man recycled policies that won’t deliver a safe world – same as the last lot didn’t.