Thursday 8th February 2024

Engagements have been limited because I’m mostly at home fighting to save the Monarchy. But every time I complete a gigantic piece to camera, one of them is admitted or found to be riddled. Luckily my series is now ended. So perhaps they’ll be spared any more agony.

The only upside: it shows how much we need them. And there’ll be a massive surge of sympathy.

Limited engagements means more room for surprises. Except they’re not really surprises because when you’re at the top, it’s not really a surprise that you should see the Head of the National Garden Scheme walking his dog in the street or encounter Marmion Beaufleasance, recently retired from one of the great offices of State, by the trolleys outside Waitrose. There we were, picking over the Royal Household, the Lying-in-State of Her Late Majesty Queen Elizabeth the Queen (at which I was his plus one with special admission, no queuing with the general), the Gay Mother’s timespan, how she knew people who’d known people who’d been at Waterloo (just), what could be the matter with the King, how he, Marmion, had begun at the Investiture in 1969 (seating plans) and gone on until very recently, precedence, processional order, state occasions, ranking of knights, folding of banners, raising of banners, correct titling, dress, ceremonial – when a woman butted in: ‘Can I get a trolley, do you think?’

Had she but known how near the Throne she’d come, how so nearly touched with gold.

Within Waitrose a bizarre incident occurred. For some reason there was a large party of visiting Chinese. They were at the meat counter returning their purchases, and elsewhere. At the self-checkout, a man temporarily abandoned his machine mid-checkout. I don’t know why. One of the Chinese women, thinking it was vacant, scanned her sea-bass. She even scanned her sea bass twice, for good measure – so it was added to that man’s total. £7.46 x 2. Then he came back and there was much screaming and jollity re: what had happened. They had to have teacher over to remove the sea-bass from the account. But at his culmination, the man couldn’t get his phone to pay as it supposed to. So I said, ‘Why don’t you get that woman who scanned her sea-bass to pay?’

How we roared. Such banter and fun.