The Monarchy

On this date in 1964, I received my first horse.  Her name was Babe, and she was a middle-age bay mare.  Unfortunately, because none of us knew anything about horses, we didn’t know she was pregnant until April 19, 1965 when she gave birth to a little white colt who we named Max.

I think that’s why I’ve been particularly haunted by the play War Horse.  When you’ve hung around with horses you realize how intuitive and smart they are.  The queen and I apparently both have a great love for them, which is just another reason I adore the queen.

I find it very irritating when people say the monarchy is irrelevant, and who cares about the queen, and so on.  When I think of how much tourist money she’s brought to England, and of what an example she sets for the world, I can’t understand why others think that’s nothing.

In any case, I was always raised by my parents, and especially my dad, to think of them as Cousin Phil and Cousin Liz.  That’s because we’re all teutons, so dad naturally made the leap to us being related.  Therefore what they do has always been a large part of my life.

Did you watch the Jubilee celebrations?  I did, and loved them.  I especially like looking at a creature as lithe as the Duchess of Cambridge.  How does she do it?  I’m currently trying to reduce my bulk, and when I see that I can see I have an awfully long way to go!  But then she’s 30 and I’m 58, so go figure.

Being bored and cantankerous, I’ve just written another letter to the editor.  This one is about a ghastly project whereby the developer literally built a ski hill just outside of Kelowna, and then went to apply for permits!  But thank God, unlike the queen, I’m allowed to give my opinion.

And I’m also trying to do more of that on Facebook, as it’s a good way to slag or promote things.  I’m still not getting the hang of Twitter, but one can only do so much when one can barely still use a touch telephone.

Nicky left for Alberta on Tuesday, but before you get excited, it’s just to visit Luke and he’ll be home any day.  I’m hoping he sees the benefits of moving to a place where the jobs are plentiful and the pay’s good.  And selfish and horrible old me, I’m also kind of hoping that one day, after 27 years, I’ll have some time alone.

Yesterday I talked to a super nice pal from the gym who separated from her husband of 30 years and who said she is kind of sad it’s just her and the dog in her house.  I went, are you nuts??

I gave her a good pep talk about the virtues of solitude and she said she needs to speak with me more often.  I said well no kidding!  But then it’s just like people’s opinions of the queen, so I guess we have to say vive la difference.  What else can one do?

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