The Unofficial British Royal Family Pages

Wednesday 5 January 2005

A Royal New Year's Eve - Sort of...

As we all know, the crowned heads of Europe celebrate their own New Year’s Eve after the actual night, when their final official duties of the year to their peoples have been carried out.  As it was, the royals saw in their own New Year on Sunday night, two days after the rest of us. 

Traditionally the responsibility for organising the night and venue is rotated amongst them. With no shortage of splendid ball rooms between them, last year it was held at Colmarberg Castle in Luxembourg, the home of Their Royal Highnesses, the Grand Duke and Grand Duchess of Luxembourg.  This year, the hosts were HM Queen Elizabeth II and her Consort, Prince Philip. 

While it is always a chance for birds of a feather to flock together and party on, the Queen was somewhat miffed at having to leave Sandringham for Windsor.  Not so much that she minded having to host the party but more that it was an incredible bore to have to move houses yet again.   

She would have insisted on the ball being held at Sandringham but had to concede that it was easier for everyone to head off to Heathrow from Windsor the next day. And, as much as she liked to catch up with her peers, it was a relief to wave them au revoir in the morning. 

“Do these shoes look all right Philip?” she asked her husband absently, preoccupied with a forthcoming day at the racetrack. 

“Oh, for mercy’s sake woman! Who’s going to give a damn about your shoes?   That bloody Martha Lou is bound to come dressed ready for Carnivale in Venice. Come on. Get a wriggle on.  The whole mob will be here any minute, ready to eat and drink us to the poor house.” 

And with that, they began their long trek to the Hall. 

The line up was long and tedious as usual.  Rainier of Monaco had sent Albert. 

“Comment va-tu and all that, Albert?” said the Queen. 

“Pas mal, ma’am.” 

“Wonderful! And I must congratulate you on your sister’s marriage.  How nice for her to settle down..again.” 

“She’s just divorced actually…” 

Momentarily confused like the rest of us, the Queen nodded, trying her best to think of something else to say. “Well, better luck next time then.” 

And so it went on until finally an animated face pecked Her Majesty’s cheeks. 

“Trixie darling!  How nice to see you! Always so happy as always, you dear thing.  And this must be your Mabel, is it?” said the Queen, eyeing the blonde princess standing next to the Dutch queen and who appeared to have a gun half-concealed in her d�collet�.  

“Ja.” Queen Beatrix said hesitantly – or maybe nervously. “It’s enough to drag her from de television and de Sopranos!” 

“I’m sure,” agreed the Queen, a fan of the Sopranos herself. “Nevertheless dear girl, would you mind leaving your revolver with that nice footman there…” 

Princess Mabel pursed her mouth and raised her eyes rebelliously. “Votever.” She said, reluctantly handing over the arms.

Philip leant over and whispered in his wife’s ear.  “Don’t get on the wrong side of her, Lil’.”  

The line up over and with and her guests on their third or fourth champagne, the Queen made her way through the Hall, chatting to everyone casually and with a familiarity never seen in public.   

She caught sight of her grandson Harry, happily engaged in conversation with the lovely Madeleine of Sweden.  Actually, she thought that they made for a lovely looking couple and was about to go and join in for a minute when, almost there, she overheard Harry, cigarette in one hand and drink in the other talking to the princess. 

“Wow!  That’s a decent pair of jugs you’ve got there Madde” 

Hmm. Moving right along,  thought the Queen. 

The air thickened with cigarette smoke as Her Majesty worked her way further into the crowd.   Where there’s smoke, there’s Daisy, she thought and sure enough, there she was.  Daisy Dane. 

Elizabeth secretly envied Queen Margrethe dreadfully.  Daisy was everything she wasn’t.  Not so much the Queen bit of course, but more the height, artistic and academic bits.  They were great chums but she did harbour a niggling feeling that Daisy was a bit of an over-achiever and a tad, well, up herself. 

The Queen also wasn’t sure quite what to make of the fact that both of Daisy’s daughter’s-in-law used to, in fact, be her subjects.  Was it just a coincidence that the Danish Queen’s sons were attracted to British Commonwealth girls or was it some sort of smooth conquest by a bunch of very tall people who used to wear cow’s horns on their heads?  

“Lilibet!  Come!  You must meet dear Mary,” motioned the Queen of Denmark, negligently dropping ash on Elizabeth’s dress as Daisy leant over to kiss her. 

Trying her best not to look annoyed, the Queen brushed the ash of quickly and took the hand of the new Crown Princess of Denmark as the latter curtseyed deeply. 

“How nice to meet you, Mary.” 

“You too ma’am!” 

“Are you having a good time?” 

“Oh yeah, I reckon!  This is grouse!” Said the princess, using the Australian colloquial adjective for fantastic. 

Overwhelmed by the conversation, the Queen was saved from discussing forthcoming episodes of Neighbours by a rather painful pinch on the bottom.   

Surprised, she grimaced and turned to find that Spanish charmer King Juan Carlos and some of his family. 

“Lilibet! So sorry if I hurt you!” The now embarrassed King exclaimed apologetically. 

“Oh J.C., don’t be silly,” she said, feeling a little embarrassed herself.  “You know I normally play along, it’s just that I had a rather unfortunate collapse at Christmas Dinner and I’m still a little…tender.” 

“Ahhh,” said the King of Spain.  “So sorry! And I promise I shall not pain you further by mentioning Gibraltar.” 

“That’s good to hear.” The Queen remarked thankfully. 

“You know my Sophie, of course, and my son but not his new wife, Letizia.” 

The Queen kissed Sophie and couldn’t help but gaze at the King’s handsome son. “How are you, Felipe?” 

“Let me answer,” said the Princess of Asturias before her husband could reply.  “He’s very good.” 

“Well, isn’t that nice, then.” She said, wondering if the new Spanish princess always cut him off… 

Suddenly the Queen was again manhandled, this time by a tap on the shoulder.  Turning, she was met with a grin from another of her grandsons. 

“William!  You’re here!   Oh, I am so glad you could come. I wasn’t sure if you would.” 

Turning back to the Spaniards, she pulled William closer to her so that she could show him off. 

“This is my grandson, William,” she beamed proudly, unfortunately to blank stares from the Spanish family. 

“You know,” she said, her hand outstretched for emphasis. “Charles and Diana’s eldest!” 

“Oh yes, of course,” mumbled the Spaniards together, quickly trying to cover up their faux pas. 

“Yes, well…” coughed the Queen. 

The Queen left William with the Spaniards, feeling a headache coming on, even though she was only on her second glass.  Parties were always hard work and she wasn’t sure she could actually be bothered with it all, even if it was New Year’s Eve.   

She didn’t notice Philip approach. 

“What about we go and sit this out for bit?” he said quietly into her ear.  “That Martha Lou is insisting on singing and you know what her upper register does for my ears..” 

“Oh, Philip, what a good idea!” she said and smiled with relief.  “And later on, when the clock strikes twelve,  can you make sure I’m not standing next to Caroline’s husband?” 

“Only if you promise to make sure that when the clock strikes, I’m standing next to that great beauty.” 

“Silvia?” The Queen asked, offering the only person in the room she could think of that fit the description. 

Prince Philip nudged her playfully with his elbow and planted a quick kiss on her cheek.   “You silly woman.” 

The characters portrayed in this story do seem spookily real, however in light of the Festive Season, I do hope they forgive me my mischievous New Year’s mood. After the last couple of weeks, I think we all need a bit of levity. 

And, while the years have ended and begun in such tragic and devastating circumstances, I hope that you all have an endeavour to have a happy, safe and prosperous 2005.

- Gioffredo
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