Dispatch from London, England - A Royal Sa-toot

I have visited London so many times that by now I should be over it.  But I'm not and I can't imagine that I ever will be.  London is truly one of the world's great cities and I have a such a strong affinity to it.

London has attracted people from all over the world since Roman times. I guess that's why, while it is the mother ship of all things British, London also has great diversity and a cosmopolitan flare about it.  
Plus, as the seat of the British Monarchy, London's pomp and circumstance have no rival. And I'm a sucker for some good p & c.

Speaking of p & c, I've been wandering around Westminster today and find myself in front of Buckingham Palace.  While the palace is certainly iconic, I've never been that wowed by its facade and exterior architecture.  But a number of years ago, I took my first tour of the palace interior and that changed my view of the place entirely. The interior is exquisite - I've not seen anything like it in my visits to other palaces throughout the world.  And the grounds behind the palace are beautiful too - you forget that you're in the middle of London when you are there.

Earlier I was at Horse Guards and saw some royal pageantry at the Parade.  The horses are so impressive when you are close to them.  Not surprisingly, they are in tip-top shape and are immaculately groomed.  And their eyes are soulful.  But that grace and beauty belie a horror that can lurk in the belly of the beasts, to which I have borne witness.

 

Years ago, I visited the Royal Mews behind Buckingham Palace.  It was a beautiful day and I was wandering around looking at the ceremonial coaches with my travel companion.  We were noting that some of the coaches looked smaller than we expected and so delicate - right out of a fairy tale. Others looked kind of creaky as though they might fall apart at any time.  And that behemoth of a Gold State Coach is breathtaking but it looks like it would be one heck of a bumpy ride.  I've read that the Queen is a strong person blessed with a good constitution but she must have buns of steel to ride in that thing.

We moved on to the stables to look at some of the horses.  There was almost no one else visiting the Mews that day.  It felt like we had the place to ourselves.  As we wandered around, a man in a uniform approached, greeted us, and began telling us about the horses.  He had little pretense about him, but I got the sense that he was quite a senior member of Mews staff - no doubt an important position in the horse-loving Queen's Royal Household.    


So this kind gentleman was showing us one of the horses - I think it was the one Canada gave the Queen.  All of the sudden, as if on command, with a slight flick of it's tail, the horse broke wind right in our faces.  And we are not talking about a short, sharp shot but rather a sustained exodus of furnace-like wind lasting about five seconds.  The stench was of concrete-melting intensity - my eyes watered, my gag reflex triggered, and my face twisted and contorted.  I tried to maintain some semblance of composure because the man kept talking as though the offending incident had not occurred.  Talk about a stiff British upper lip.  Keep calm and carry on, indeed.  

Now, while my travel companion possesses many admirable attributes, an ability to filter what she says and an ability to speak in hush tones are not two of them.  After the initial shock of the blast, she blurted out, "Yuck! Holy Hell! What do you feed that beast?!" and then she stomped off while theatrically waving her hands to clear the air and muttering "Holy Hell" and "I think I'm going to barf!".  I looked back at the gentleman and he just smiled, making me wonder momentarily whether the chemical weapon was launched by the horse or by him.  Anyhoo, I thanked him and staggered away, banging into things as I navigated my way through tear-filled eyes.  

As a sidebar, I recall that my sense of smell came back after a couple of days and my eyebrows grew back in about a month.

That reminds me of another story.  I heard it years ago while watching a television special about the Royals.  This man, I forget his title or connection to the situation, recounted a story about US President Reagan visiting the Queen in the 80's.  The two went for a horse-drawn cart ride in some bucolic setting - Windsor if I remember.  The horses pulling the cart were flatulating with reckless abandon (seriously, what are they feeding these animals!).  The Queen purportedly turned to Reagan and said, "Mr. President, I am sorry but there are some things that even I cannot control". To which Reagan is said to have replied, "No problem Ma'am.  If you hadn't said anything, I would've thought it was the horses".