1980 - Ayup, it's the Queen

     It was 7th June, and, despite one or two recent setbacks, I was feeling really quite charged as I travelled back from Manchester to the laboratory to drop off my films. 

I had been providing training to two of my newly recruited photographers, at St Joseph's Infant and Junior school, where I had overseen them taking one or two portraits of pupils but had taken the vast majority, about two hundred of them, myself so that they could watch and learn by example.

I usually tried to talk with each and every individual child no matter how brief, but was always amazed at how many of them had found a place in my head when I later recalled the events of the day.

     This particular morning, as I was driving along, I was playing back the actions of an eleven-year-old boy who had emerged from behind my background, which hung from a sturdy projector screen stand.

He'd slowly taken up position on my little stool wearing a Buster Keaton, dead-pan expression and a packet of crisps carefully balanced on his head. I was very amused with this, but, going along with the joke, and, with matching dead-pan expression, said "maybe this is a silly question but why have you got a packet of Walkers cheese and onion crisps balanced on your head"? Without breaking the pretence, he replied, "because they didn't have any salt and vinegar". I loved it and we each shared an acknowledging smile. This kid, I thought, will be successful at whatever he does, and I felt privileged to have been part of our little performance.

It was a hectic schedule that year - one day I'd be in Scotland, the next in Kent and the next in Wales. As my dad would say, I was up and down like a fiddler's elbow (the cleanest of the three similes in his repertoire).

     As I arrived in Rugeley and travelled along Horsefair, I noticed that schoolchildren with Union Jacks were lining the road on both sides. So, two hundred yards further on, I used the opportunity to pull into Edwards Garage to fill up and at the same time find out what was going on.

I learned from a motorcyclist, fiddling with his chain, that The Queen was passing through on her way to Lichfield where she was to open a new school - Saxons Hill. And, recognising a great opportunity to get a new booking to do their school photographs, I asked a friendly policeman if he would be so kind as to create an opening in the crowd after the cavalcade had passed (the crowd was now about seven deep).

Great, I had a plan, I would follow the cavalcade and it would take me right to the school where I would record the event by taking some take great photos of the unveiling of the plaque etc. And what other shots could I get to maximise this opportunity I wondered. I know… then, suddenly I went dizzy in disbelief as I noticed it was a diesel pump in my hand - not petrol! And that I had half-filled the tank with the wretched stuff. Oh no, what to do!

Taking many things into account my usual super confident mood quickly won out and I settled on the craziest of options. Before I knew it, I had topped up the tank right to the brim with four-star petrol. It was the 'death or glory' option that I'd settled on… temporary insanity.

     As I was waiting for my new policeman friend to spring into action I considered if maybe I should perform a series of 'stabs' on the brakes to mix the four star in with the diesel or maybe I should put my foot down for a few seconds then freewheel for a while and keep doing that? After the Lichfield school I knew it would be fine because the next morning I had to be in Plymouth so I could set off at midnight and nobody would notice a little bit of smoke in the dark. And by the time I got to Plymouth I would have an empty tank. Good plan.

Leading the parade!

Suddenly, it was all systems go and the lovely, kind policeman had parted the masses and ushered me out. I quickly checked my rear-view mirror to make sure there was no smoke and saw none. I did however see a great big Rolls Royce following me and realised that my lovely kind policeman had been a bit premature and put me right in the middle of the cavalcade – my lovely kind plonka!

As my cavalcade proceeded, I decided to guts it out and stick with it. And, fair to say, apart from the odd snigger in the crowd and people pointing it was going pretty well. Just a little bit of smoke that's all.

     As we were arriving in Lichfield, I felt that I was pretty much in control and quite confident that I had made the right decision. So much so in fact that I decided to unwrap a steak pie I had bought at the garage and sink my teeth into it. Well, what a massive mistake that was. Whilst I was fiddling around unwrapping my pie, I had gone straight on while the Rolls Royce in front had taken a sudden and unexpected left turn. Suddenly, I was detached from the group. Never mind I thought, if I put my foot down, I can go left at the Bowling Green Island along to the 'T' junction and right onto that little street past the Chinese restaurant and I might just catch them up.

Well, can you imagine my disappointment therefore when I did all that and after turning right, there was not a single Rolls Royce in sight. There was however quite a lot of smoke following me due to all that racing around. I decided to slow down to improve the smoke situation and as I did, I checked my rear-view mirror and saw The Queen's Roller emerging out of the smoke behind me. It's funny how quickly you need the toilet at times like this isn't it?

     As I quietly dissolved with fear, my chest became an empty cavity and I frantically scanned for side-roads where I could escape this nightmare. Anything rather than to be at the head of the parade, but what could I do? Everything was given over to the crowds which by now were about ten deep. It was like being on a helter-skelter with just enough space to get my little white Ford Cortina through.

Suddenly, I was more than aware of how this looked, the temporary plywood boarded up passenger window where I had been broken into two days earlier in Glasgow, the great pall of smoke that was following me and me devouring my steak and kidney pie at the wheel - and leading the parade!

     I put my foot down to establish a gap but all that did was to squirt a new cloud of smoke in the direction of The Queen. It truly was like Coco the clown had come to add a bit of light entertainment to Lichfield's special day. The laughter not only increased but took on a 'Mexican Wave' effect as the people's delight became supercharged by hearing the laughter of the people who got to see me immediately ahead of them. Just about everybody was pointing and laughing as the helter-skelter took a sharp left uphill.

At the top, I was able to take a right fork to where a tough looking guy in sunglasses stood with his hand up in a 'halt' gesture. I quickly worked out the best thing to say to him would be "don't ask me how I got here!" But alas, as I came to a halt and wound down my window he spoke first saying "good grief, I thought the commandos were coming for a minute".

He had a big smile on his face and, glancing at my passenger's seat and seeing my camera gear, said "oh, press, just park over there". I thought wow, this plan is working out better than I'd hoped.

So, I did "park over there" and got out just as The Queen's car was slowing down at the entrance to the school. Then, after briefly wondering how close they would allow me to get, I decided the best way to find out was to walk over until somebody stopped me.

Amazingly they didn't! And I found myself in the very best place to get great photographs of The Queen. I was snapping away quite merrily when a flat-hatted policeman came over to me and asked in a posh voice "where did you come from?" I calmly said, "I arrived with The Queen" and he said "erw sorray" and retreated.

     As we progressed through the school, I think it was the Lord Lieutenant of Staffordshire who walked on the right of The Queen whilst I followed immediately behind The Queen and alongside a very nice lady who said something like "you must be very special not to be in with that lot". We had just turned a corner into a large room with a swimming pool and "that lot" was a barrage of blinding photographers that opened fire on us from the other side of the pool. There must have been at least twenty.

Walking with The Queen

Well, walking with The Queen was a fascinating experience but, to cut a long story short, I was eventually sussed and ejected by no less than the Chief Constable of Staffordshire himself who marvelled at how I had broken through his ring-of-steel security. We had a nice little chat before he kicked me out the back - locking the door behind me.

     Outside the school were a number of people waiting at a distance hoping to catch a glimpse of The Queen as she left. I got into conversation with a woman who stood with her three-year-old daughter positioned in front of her and holding what looked like to be a bunch of weeds in her hands. The woman explained that she, her daughter, had gone out that morning and started picking them. And when she asked why she was picking them, her daughter said they were for The Queen. Wow, I thought, that's a brilliant story!

I worked out exactly where The Queen would come out of the school, so suggested the woman should follow me under the cordon and around the back. When she asked would that "be alright" I told her "oh yes, of course it will" (fingers crossed).

I told the little girl exactly where The Queen would stand to take her flowers and positioned her in the perfect spot to offer them up.

Well, what can I say, everything went exactly as planned. I got the perfect moment and the weeds story to go with it. I guess most of those photographers would be spitting blood the next day when my photo and story made the front page of all the local press.