Just a week ago I switched on the one o’clock news and heard that Prince Philip had died. I was surprised to find my eyes full of tears. Why? It was expected. He is not someone I knew. He has not been a significant part of my life, but he is a figure who has always been there; in the background. He is symbolic.  Some may argue that he is symbolic of an outdated institution, of privilege, of a ruling class which has more to do with the 19th than the 21st century. But I disagree. 

I was born in 1953, just a few weeks before the coronation. My grandmother and her niece, my auntie, who lived with her, were both great monarchists. They would show me picture books with photos  of the coronation, of royal trips to various commonwealth countries and of Princess Anne and Prince Charles. They embodied that reverential, slightly deferential attitude which was rooted in British Victorian and Edwardian society. They went to church on Sundays wearing their best hats and coats, they sang the hymns and were good people. Adapting to the arrival in their city of large numbers of people from these various commonwealth countries was, at times, difficult. But they would always be kind even if they might complain to each other.

In many ways this second Elizabethan age has been remarkable, not least for the peace which we in Britain have experienced. I wonder if I have been any less privileged than the Duke of Edinburgh? Unlike him I was fortunate enough to have a loving stable home and was told from the start that I was loved. I received a good state education, being encouraged at every point along the way. I was still one of a minority to receive a university education, and it was free. I have had free health care throughout. I was able to choose the kind of work I wanted to do and I have known what it is to have a loving husband and the joy of children. I have known what it is to be free.  If this isn’t privilege then I don’t know what is and I feel a deep sense of gratitude.

To have been born into post-war Britain, for most of us, has been to draw the lucky straw of life. Yes there are injustices, there is poverty, there is suffering, there are institution which need modernising but for the vast majority we are still largely a tolerant, liberal and free society. Our long history gives us a sense of our shared past. (However, it is curious sometimes how little many people do know about that past!!) That past includes the story of our monarchy which continues for many people to be a rich symbol of being British. Symbols operate beyond words. They evoke emotions and images, they capture an aspect of culture or of meaning.  Who knows how it might change when we have King Charles III? But unlike political parties who need to curry favour and play various kinds of games to remain in power, our monarch can remain a constant, stabilising force hopefully contributing hidden wisdom into political decisions and demonstrating enduring values.

So why the tears? I expect on some deep level his death marks the start of the end of an era: my era. All the images of his life are also part of my story because I remember them. There is a nostalgia for a past which can only be visited in memory. But also deep gratitude for all of it.