I’d a fairly vivid dream last night, during which I met HRH Queen Elizabeth II. This chance encounter playing out whilst walking along a seaside pier at Blackpool, Lancashire. A vision where she sat relaxing in a deckchair, knotted handkerchief upon her grey hair (as opposed to the usual crown), with corgi at her side.
On realisation our monarch was amongst these early morning strollers, I stopped in my tracks and, after briefly scraping and bowing, afforded the head of The Commonwealth a reverential “Hello, Marm!”
On witnessing my arrival, the corgi inquisitively shuffled toward me; coming to halt at my trainers. The curious fellow sniffing my shoes probingly, prior to rejoining Lizzie’s side. On the wee canine’s return, HRH courteously responded to my greeting with a cordial “Good morning!”
Unaware at the time it was a dream, yours truly was in awe at a face to face meeting with the Queen. The nearest I’d gotten to our monarch previously was fleetingly during her Silver Jubilee, in 1977.
This glimpse occurring when Her Royal Highness’s entourage drove past my fellow Breckenbeds Junior High pupils and I, while standing outside The Jolly Miller pub, Low Fell. excitedly anticipating sight of our monarch.
Anyhow, as the night vision evolved, my conversation with HRH proceeded as such:-
“I’d not realised you holidayed in Blackpool, your majesty!” in my finest attempts to converse in pronounced tones by refining my usual northern dialect.
“Yes, Phillip and I have a static caravan up in Fleetwood. We’re here with the great-grandkids, one of the dogs and two security guards.” came an amiable riposte with pristine annunciation.
I affectionately patted the corgi on the head, before chirpily proffering “It’s a beautiful dog, marm.”
“That’s not the dog, it’s one of the security guards!” Elizabeth corrected me.
“Blimey, it’s amazing how a grown man can fit inside a dog suit that small!” I posited in astonishment.
“That’s not a man in a dog suit, you buffoon!….. The corgi has been trained to fend off any unwelcome attention, so acts as my body guard.” yours truly was firmly put in place.
“With all due respect, your majesty, the canine looks a tad timid to protect you from anarchists, tree huggers and other miscreants!” I pointed out as this dream continued apace. At this juncture, getting deeply concerned our revered figurehead was being recklessly exposed to risk.
“Don’t let that diminutive, cuddly exterior fool you!….. Try stroking him and see what happens!” Lizzie countered.
I leant over to stroke him. After a brief sniff of my hand, the corgi affectionately licked the back of my palm.
“I don’t want to appear facetious, marm. However unless your bodyguard has the powers of licking people to death, I’d revisit your security practises and procedures!” yours truly felt compelled at opining after witnessing this deference.
“Chuffing hell, I’ve only gone and left the security corgi at the caravan and come for a walk with the untrained dog….. I’m gonna have to get the return tram back to the Fleetwood caravan park, asap!” the Queen cursed.
“Can you not just text one of the security guards to catch the tram down here to the North Pier!” I suggested as, what appeared to me, a far more sensible solution.
“One can’t. The network connectivity is rubbish where we are staying!….. It’s technological wherewithal is more Jurassic Park than caravan park” Lizzie rued!
With night vision conversation continuing, I questioned with intrigue “How come a person, who could holiday anywhere, plumps for a Fleetwood holiday park weekend break?”
“Phillip and I like to turn up at places unannounced…… Stop somewhere that for just once doesn’t smell of new paint, doesn’t require entering via a red carpet and where we can watch Love Island in peace!” HRH explained away their desire to ‘slum it’.
Noticing HRH was packing away her factor 30 suncream and Union Jack sun towel, I enquired “Before you go, have you a message for your subjects?!”
“Yes, avoid mistaking security support with bloody untrained corgis!!” she grunted disconcertedly……. With that she pick up her beach bag and headed towards the Fleetwood tram stop.
I woke not long after, pondering whether this night vision afforded me the right to boast my dreams were now blessed by royal warrant of appointment!…… After googling the query, I was provided with a list of contact details for psychiatrists in the Leeds area!
