Commonwealth Observance...

...was ace. Westminster Abbey was full of flowers, there were terrifying gymnastic displays in the aisle, steel bands, a gospel choir, sitar music, and an exquisite wordless aria from Patricia Rozario. I am still not very good with live music, I was trying not to cry. The other four people giving their testimonies were lovely: Ade, wheelchair basketball champ, Paralympic medallalist, TV presenter, Alice, HIV activist and writer, Dr. Munanwar, Commonwealth civil servant who helped with the South Asian earthquake, Findlay, marathon-running cancer sufferer, now clear and running round the world in 24 days in September. There were flag-bearers in national costume from all over the world ( some of whom had very skimpy costumes on and froze outside when we had the meet and greet with Prince Charles, Duchess Camilla, the PM of Malta ( this year's chair of the Council of Commonwealth Societies). There were representatives of all faiths there and the service was really good: thoughful, lively, actually extremely enjoyable and accessible whilst still retaining the pomp stuff that we do well in this country.

There were no representatives from the British Government at all, Blair was invited but pulled out, his replacement, Baroness Amos was a no-show as well. Other people came from all over the world. The service will be broadcast on the BBC World Service on Sunday across all time zones.

Afterwards we went to a drinks reception at Marlborough House and devoured canapes and met Prince Charles again who was very charming and asked me much more sensible questions than most people do when asking about July 7th. His hands were those of a farmer, reddened and roughened, as if he has been riding or chopping willow at Highgrove, which is what I bet he would prefer to do with his time rather than attend drinks parties and services. His nails were bitten and rough; perhaps that is why he is fond of holding his hands behind his back or putting them into his pockets. He was a genuinely nice, bright man. Camilla was wearing an amazing hat and looked much more fine-boned and pretty than she does in her photos, with very good legs. I shook hands with her but didn't talk; she was working the other side of the room.

The drinks reception finished and we testimonial-givers decided to leave but were then persuaded on to a pub by some of the Commonwealth staff who had worked flat out on the day and wanted to kick back. We decamped to the Red Lion, and got quite pissed, having survived on twiglets and canapes all evening. But in a good way. It was a great afternoon and I shall remember it for a long time.