- by Kimberley Love

By the strangest coincidence... I woke up a week ago in a lovely cottage on the grounds of Balmoral, after a wonderful day at the Braemar Games.
Glen and I were guests of friends who are still at Balmoral: behind the large gilded gates, and I think the only people on the grounds who are not the Royal family or its close household.

The timing of our visit was a fluke: a long-awaited get-together that had been twice postponed by a pandemic.
On Saturday, at the games in Braemar, after the arrival of the Royal party - Charles and Camilla (now King and Queen Consort) and Princess Anne and her husband - the crowd stood for the traditional singing of God Save the Queen.

Once upon a time, we sang God Save the Queen in the mornings before school. Along with O Canada. In our one-room school in Proton, the young Queen's photograph was on the wall at the back of the classroom, surmounted by the old red Canadian flag and a very tatty Union Jack. Both a bit dirty, with hanging threads, and unravelling gold fringes: probably after many marching drills before and during the war years. We still learned and rehearsed marching drills in those years, actually. And we sang God Save the Queen each morning. I don't remember when we stopped.

On Saturday in Braemar, some just stood and listened to the choir sing, and - as is often the case - others sang along.
About one phrase in, I became acutely conscious that it may be the last time I sing God Save the Queen. And so I sang.
I hoped the Queen might rally for another decade: as well she might have.

But just in case... in the Queen's own backyard four days ago... I sang her anthem.

I thought she looked well in the press photo from Tuesday.
But at the games, there was some murmuring that she must be quite unwell... or she would have been in her usual seat in the Royal Box at the games, which are very near to Balmoral.

I'm not particularly a monarchist, although I became a great admirer of the Queen. The world seems more uncertain than it did a few days ago.

Elizabeth Regina.   1926 - 2022