To begin at the beginning: way
back in May I received an official envelope from the Cabinet Office saying that
the Prime Minister, in strict confidence, was recommending
that her Majesty “may be graciously pleased to approve that you be appointed a
Member of the British Empire in the Birthday 2016 Honours List.” To say I was amazed was an understatement:
stunned, overwhelmed, gobsmacked would be more accurate. I had no idea who had put my name forward –
it certainly wasn’t the Prime Minister! My first thought, after I had got over
my shock, was that I wanted nothing to do with Empire, and should refuse the
honour on those grounds, but when I realised that the citation was “For
humanitarian work in Madagascar” I decided that the honour was really for what
WE, not I, had achieved in Madagascar and so I swallowed my empire scruples and
accepted. I had to wait a month before I
could tell anyone but my closest family, and then six months before the
investiture took place.
At last the big day dawned and,
attired in our best, we set off in a taxi with a bright pink sticker that
allowed the driver to take us right inside the Palace gates once his vehicle
had been searched and checked for any bombs that might have been hidden
underneath it. Everyone was friendly and
smiling, including the taxi driver who had never been asked to drive his taxi
in to Buckingham Palace before, and had taken lots of selfies to prove the
truth of his story when he got home.
Once inside the Palace the guests were taken off in one direction and
those of us to be invested were taken to wait our turn in the picture gallery
which was full of the most wonderful Rembrandts, Franz Hals and Canalettos. A
handsome, gold-braided general instructed us how to approach the royal person
(Prince Charles in this case), how to bow (yes - he also demonstrated how to
curtsy!), how to address the Prince and how to withdraw. We had some time to chat with the other
recipients and I spoke to two delightful police officers, a lady who worked
with families involved in domestic abuse, a young lady who worked for HMRC
helping people who had hearing difficulties and a very jolly recently retired
business man. Then it all started and we
watched on a TV screen while three people were knighted. They really are tapped on the shoulder with a
sword while they kneel on a stool, helpfully made with arm rests to help the
not-so-agile regain a standing position with some degree of dignity.
Finally it was my turn: walk to
the doorway where a helpful man tells me to wait, then a gentle push into the
ballroom which is crowded with guests to the right and the Prince and his
entourage of beefeaters, Gurkha soldiers and palace officials to the left. Another man stops me a yard or so from the
Prince, sees me still shaking with nerves and whispers “Don’t worry, I’ll let
you know when to move. You just relax and enjoy yourself.” Then the moment comes and I manage my curtsy
and approach the dais. Prince Charles is
charming and instantly puts me at my ease, asks how long I have worked in
Madagascar then gives me the chance to tell him that one of his houses is just five
miles from where I live and we chat for a minute or two about the beauties of
rural Carmarthenshire. A handshake is the signal for the end of the
conversation and I retreat, just remembering in the nick of time to do another
curtsy. After it was all over we spent ages in the inner courtyard of the
Palace taking photos of ourselves with the incredibly friendly Gurkha soldiers
and the Beefeaters in their magnificent costumes. An altogether amazing experience.
by Theresa Haine
Pictures
Top: Theresa being guarded by four Beefeaters; Theresa with her brother James and sister Julie, flanked by two very friendly Gurkhas.
Bottom: Theresa, her sister Julie, and Gwen who retired recently after being a trustee of MfM for many years.
