The coronation
The coronation
The freedom to enjoy an affair filled with contradiction
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I am not a huge Royalist. I don't follow celebrities. I couldn’t give two hoots about what anyone is wearing. I am not religious. I think church hymns mostly sound like dirges. But I did watch the coronation of Charles III yesterday pretty much from start to finish.
Initially I figured I would just watch the parades before and after and skip most of the bit at the abbey, maybe just popping in for the crowning for posterity. And the parades were great. A huge testament to our armed services, and to those from around the commonwealth, still managing to hang together. They were a fantastic feat of marching discipline, horse control and musicianship, and a just reward to the thousands of people who cared enough about a new King to actually show up on the day. And doubtless there was plenty of manure for London’s roses to be picked up afterwards.
But when they got to Westminster Abbey I ended up hooked. Transfixed by the whole thing. The fine costumes. The sparkling regalia. The church organ. The full orchestra. The choir. The gospel singers I could have done without - they seemed to be trying to gospel in the style of the Abbey choir instead of really going for it. But in general the music was fantastic. A mix of old and new classical music and soaring vocal harmonies in a vast, historic, and beautiful space specifically designed for people to lift up their voices to their god.
And at the heart of if all were two people in their seventies. Charles, probably with very mixed emotions. He has spent his whole life knowing Kingship was coming, and understanding that to be King means to serve the people, not be served by them. As contradictory as that may sound for someone with a palace and a vast mass of staff to run it. Yet the only reason he was sitting there is because he lost his mother last September, a grief that no-one gets over quickly or fully. And Camilla, who replaced the country’s favourite, Diana, in Charle’s heart decades ago. Who has struggled to be accepted at all. And who, although now crowned Queen, can never replace Queen Elizabeth II. Lizzie will always be the only real Queen for most.
It was a day of contradictions. Pomp and splendour in a country so wracked by inflation that most people are struggling to pay their bills. Crowning of monarchs in a time when it is difficult to see the actual point of a Royal Family any more. Celebration of the Commonwealth in a world where many see it as a shadow of British colonialism. The coming into Kingship of a man well past retirement age. A ritual centuries old playing out in the 21st century.
And the cost? Estimated at £100 million to £250 million. Security costs were high. It sounds a lot. For one day of celebration. Many in the UK object to having the tax they pay spent in such a frivolous way. Yet, as taxpayers, we routinely pay for things that we don't know about, don't directly benefit from and don't care about. That's the way tax systems work. We all chip into the kitty in order that we can benefit from the things we do want or need. The UK taxpayer spent over £400 thousand hosting a visit from Donald Trump that none of us wanted. There were even petitions to Parliament wanting his visit cancelled. The wage bill for the MPs in the UK Parliament is over £55 million, before their extortionate expenses, and many people would quite happily sack the lot of them. The London olympics cost us £18 billion and vast swathes of us didn't watch any of it.
Yet tens of thousands of people are thought to have stood for hours lining the streets of London yesterday. Over 18 million people in the UK alone watched the coronation on TV. And we are all getting a paid day off work tomorrow. Over 30 million people are getting a days wages for sitting on their arse.
If the transfer of a single footballer can cost over £100 million, surely the crowning of a new King is worth a little more? Having a monarchy is still, for the moment, very much a part of the United Kingdom. And, as such, the day a new King is crowned should be a day of pomp and circumstance and celebration. For the price of a hundred or so ferrarris we got a day that those who care will remember for the rest of their lives. A day that even those more ambivalent to the idea of a monarchy could enjoy, and remember as a part of their country's history that they were present for. For the price of a single luxury mansion or penthouse, the whole country had the opportunity to witness a part of history significantly more fun than the bank crash, the global pandemic, the cost of living crisis, the climate crisis, the countless wars being waged.
For 5 hours I was transported out of the mundane and into a real-life fairytale. And at the end of that fairytale, the United Kingdom gained a new King that gives a shit about people and the environment and the world. Whether everybody here wants him or not. For however much longer we even remain a United Kingdom.
Probably an unpopular opinion, but I think it was worth it. Though my son, who was at his Dad's yesterday, apparently slept through the whole thing.