60 years on the throne is probably a good excuse for a party – and certainly excepting the most ardent republicans most of Britain is happy to have an extra long weekend.
But royalists and apathetic bystanders alike seem to be able to get behind the Great British traditions of ‘going down the pub to complain about it all’ and ‘having a picnic/BBQ no matter what the weather’. So whilst all across the country the bunting has gone up and brewers have worked hard to find appropriately royal puns for beer names, members of the public have stood around in the rain insisting they are having a good time or sat at the bar muttering about the futility of it all – and all in the fine company of other like-minded souls.
This weekend I have mostly been standing behind the bar but I also enjoyed a proper urban barbeque watching the rain fall from the safety of our balcony whilst my boss played charades. It is good to have an impromptu excuse to spend time with one’s friends even though socialising is hard work. It is bad for watching one’s weight, difficult for those social phobics amongst us (looking at you W) and its tricky spending time in non-negotiated space where it isnt clear how open my relationship with B is. Hard for all of us to look out for each other and check no one is left out or over-faced. Hard but I think good for us.
Still I look out at the parties and celebrations and I wonder what my life will be like in 60 years.. will I still be alive? Will I still have my family? What will have changed? Its an unimaginable gap in many ways and I think we live in interesting times…