My proxy HRH story — travelling on the Plane the Queen and monarch use.
My cousin in Ghana fills he needs to remind me that our grandfather Mr Sarbah met the Queen when she visited Ghana in 1961 and he was the driver of the train she boarded. Apparently, he was given a citation.
I’ve not met the Queen; why would I? My mum (RIP)was a fanatical royalist, and the Queen’s passing has reignited thoughts about my mum, and Dad too. Not too sure of my dad, other than when Prince Charles was in Ghana, my dad was throwing a party too.
The relationship between the Monarchy and Black and Brown people, particularly former colonies and my parents generation is worth a deep-seated documentary, otherwise an excavation of the archives, as well as present coverage on the news.
In his book The Power of News Michael Schudson says
Journalism is not the sum of the individual subjective experience of reporters and editors but the source or structure that gives rise to therm. It is the matrix of institutions and outlooks that produce people who understand their situations in these terms
Journalism’s erected bias based around its own culture sees how news tends to ignore culture at large and representation. Marcus Ryder provides a nuanced microscopic analysis of representation, including UK regional in his post here. Please read.
Incongruently, and less a story, more an incident, this came to mind in the spirit of sharing pub stories.
I twice travelled on HRH’s private jet. That’s what you see in the main photo. If you look just behind my head you’ll see the insignia. Yes, I’m editing on a 17 inch mac. Those days huh, which Apple picked up on.
We were served tea on the journey by, I think it was the co-pilot, with the whole Queen’s silver, china etc. If I remember it seated about 12. To the side, a fighter jet accompanies the plane over British airspace. I’ve video of it somewhere where I can almost see the pilots face and he clocks me and lowers his visor.
The circumstances behind this were I was one of the editors of a War Games programme ran by Nato. We flew out of Northholt base, where I once had the pleasure of being one of few journalists allowed into the Nuclear bunker for military brass and the government. That’s for another story.
Our flight to Norway was fine. I got on so well with Lt Rupert that he asked me to stay on. I did, but when it was time to fly back to the UK I noticed my passport had expired. You see travelling out of Northolt, a military base, I was looked after. On my way still under the guidance of Nato, I had a wee panic.
It was only when we landed that Lt Rupert made me realise the extent of what would have happened if we were directed elsewhere. Well, simple reason, it could have sparked an incident as I would officially be a persona non grata.
What were the chances of that happening? Well significantly really as we were heading into a storm. Makes me chuckle now, but a good memory.
Oh p.s. Meeting King Charles III via the Prince of Wales Trust, but that’s for another story too.
