BY ROYAL DISAPPOINTMENT..

Strange how what started off as a weekend when I was determined to avoid bunting and frolics at all costs ended up by leaving me with an odd sense of gratification following the Queen`s Jubilee celebrations.   Now being just as curmudgeonly as the Duke of Edinburgh, I will not drift into, or get caught up in, the patriotic outpourings witnessed over the past few days;   but I confess to being genuinely impressed by Her Majesty who, at 86, has shown dignity, fortitude and determination in coming through a strenuous weekend of appalling weather, endless events and functions and the concern for her husband, taken to hospital with a bladder infection.   I suspect she could do with a nice cup of tea and a sit down.

But it all got me recalling my own experiences with royalty;   in all my nearly 73 years, there have been four, not one of which could  in any way be described as memorable.   The first was in 1953 when, as a callow youth of about 12, we were marched from school to occupy a roadside kerb past which our newly crowned monarch was due to progress  as part of her nationwide whistle stop tour of the country.   I vividly recall the moment when the royal car swept past and the way in which Prince Philip`s eyes seemed to mark me out and fix me with a knowing gaze.   I swear I could see him muttering, "Look, there`s young Snopper."

My next encounter was many years later when, as a national serviceman, I was part of the  regimental guard for the visit by the Duke of Gloucester to our headquarters in Germany.   The sun blazed down as we went through our choreographed sword drill in our best blues and white webbing, only for the Duke to completely ignore me, clearly just having had a good time in the officers` mess.

About 25 years ago I was invited, along with Mrs. Snopper, to attend a royal garden party at Buckingham Palace, an invitation I respectfully declined with as much grace as I could muster, for the simple reason that I really didn`t want to go.  I just didn`t fancy all the dressing up and the formality of it all.   By this time, unsurprisingly, my reputation among royal circles was in sharp decline.

And lastly, about ten years ago I was chairman of the Friends of a local hospice when the Earl of Wessex and the beguiling Sophie came to officially open a big extension project.   Now given my reputation, I thought it best to resign the chairmanship just before the royal visit, which enables me to keep in the shadows, despite shaking the royal hand.

So there we are. A series of narrow squeaks, near misses and lost opportunities and at the end of it all I wonder who is left the most disappointed.   I think I know the answer.   And it`s not me.