Anyhow, day one for me, on April 9, 2002, just so happened to be the Queen Mother's funeral. This wet-behind-the-ears hack was dispatched to the delightful Berkshire village of Datchet to watch the beloved royal's coffin transported to Windsor after the main ceremony in Westminster Abbey.
Crowds, young and old, lined the streets to watch the hearse pass by as Charles, then the Prince of Wales, followed behind. Just two months later, I found myself staring in disbelief at another regal encounter. Fortunately nobody had died on this occasion: it was the Queen's Golden Jubilee. I couldn't believe it, blinking into the June sunshine, that Her Majesty was standing just feet away from me on Windsor and Eton Bridge.
For some reason I was allowed behind the security cordon and could almost reach out and touch her as she greeted well-wishers. Having only seen her on TV before, I was struck by how petite the Queen was in her mint green outfit, clutching a bouquet of flowers given to her by a little girl.
The sordid tale of Andrew Mountbatten-Windsor's friendship with notorious paedophile Jeffrey Epstein and the brain-numbing saga of Harry and Meghan has dragged the family name through the mud and back again. How they respond will define their standing for the next generation.
Bands such as Oasis, Radiohead and Pulp are back in vogue again while another Blur comeback has long been on many people's wishlist too. It has been said that if you can remember the Nineties you weren't there. That wouldn't be the case for millennials and Gen Z who have grown up in the age of the smartphone.
Sadly, for some, typically the leftie, yogurt-weaving wokerati, this is all too much to bear. They regard the cross of St George as some kind of racist anti-migrant emblem, a dirty national flag that has no place in our modern multicultural society. So, bravo to the many towns and villages who will celebrate St George.
I spent a rather enjoyable afternoon on Sunday at a local event in Pinner, North West London, where more than 1,000 people celebrated. The annual fancy-dress wheel -barrow race is the star attraction, but there were other at-risk traditions - Morris dancing and Punch and Judy, all in the April sun as red-and-white flags fluttered in the breeze.
What will stick in the craw of the liberal-elite is this took place around the corner from the local synagogue, Hindu temple and mosque. There was no separatism or sectarianism. Just a bunch of people from all religions and races coming together and having fun to celebrate English culture.
