I’m not fussed about the Jubilee. It doesn’t offend me massively (yet), but I’m not excited about it either. I was, however, excited about the Silver Jubilee in 1977, because I was six.
It’s the only street party I can ever remember going to – I’d like to say there should be more street parties, but perhaps not with my neighbours… That’s me in the middle, above. My sister Leanne is on the right and my friend Angela is next to me. I thought me and Leanne had worn our special Jubilee outfits, but it doesn’t look like it. Special Jubilee outfits? I hear you cry. Why yes.
The tops were handknitted by our mum. They were red, white and blue, obv., and had little crowns around the bottom. You can’t see them very well on the above photo. But you can on this’un.
With white pleated skirts and knee socks. Lovely.
Harry and Joe are mildly interested in the Jubilee. Joe insists that all the bunting and flags are actually for his birthday (which is in January) and won’t be argued with. Although he has made one slight concession and is now calling it “My Jubilee birthday.” Earlier he said he wanted to send a message to the Queen to “thank her for my lunches”. When I said the Queen’s got nothing to do with his lunches, he hissed at me.
I did feel slightly guilty that my lack of interest was robbing my children of a lovely memory, so on Friday we had a Jubilee picnic lunch. At home. Seventies-style.
They seemed to enjoy it. Harry said, “We’re celebrating the Queen for all the laws she’s made and things she’s created.” Well… not so much, no. But sausages on sticks are always the right answer, eh?