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ARTS AND CULTURE

Close-ish encounters with two queens

  • 30 March 2012

In March 1954 my parents took me to see the visiting Queen Elizabeth II and Prince Philip as they whizzed past in the back of their limousine. I remember seeing a white gloved hand at the window and that was about it. The experience, to which I had gone under duress — having even at that young age vestigial, half understood republican tendencies — turned out to be the one time in my life so far when I saw the Queen 'in the flesh'.

I knew that the two royals were heading to the MCG and perhaps they were running late and this explained the speed of their passing which, while not of Formula One quality, defied even cursory observation.

The MCG, in those days before it became a genuine world class stadium, was much given to performances by schoolchildren on ceremonial occasions. Sure enough, when the Queen and Philip arrived, they saw the word WELCOME spelt out on the sacred turf by hundreds of carefully arranged, colourfully dressed and remorselessly drilled schoolgirls and boys.

I know all about this, not because I have studied the matter, but because, unbeknownst to me, as they say in the romances, my wife-to-be was helping to form the bottom leg of the L, just where the right angle begins.

A few weeks ago, accompanied by that same vital component of the L, I went with some enthusiasm to see another Queen pass by. During the previous week a notice on a blackboard in the Queenscliff information centre had announced that the Queen Mary would be passing through the Port Phillip Bay Heads — the Rip, as it is known — at about five in the morning and would be departing again at about nine that evening.

Though living almost in sight of the Rip, we passed on the early morning tryst but, along with most of the population of the Bellarine Peninsula, nearby Geelong and even visitors from Melbourne, we lined up on the Point Lonsdale foreshore with a couple of hours to spare rugged up and ready for the show.

At about seven, a bloke in the crowd said, 'Here she comes.' He had a huge pair of binoculars that he must have inherited from a long gone relative who might have found them useful on the Somme. He sounded authoritative.

Sure enough, far across the bay and approaching through the