Where past celebrations have been about unity, empire and nation, this is a preview of a very different Britain
That was the jubilee, that was. Well, almost. The celebration is not over yet. Lots of people had a good time and their enthusiasm overflowed. Lots of others were less bothered but enjoyed the show all the same. For a minority, it was historic and glorious; for a different minority, infantilising and awful. But the official revels now are almost ended. On Monday, it will be back to war in Ukraine, the cost of living and Tory MPs’ letters.
How much, if at all, has Elizabeth II’s platinum jubilee mattered in the larger scheme of things British? It’s easy to wax pompous about this on both sides. Enduring monarchical splendour? Merely bread and circuses? It doesn’t help that jubilees are such odd events, contingent and ephemeral. They follow no defined pattern, and have no constitutional significance. Those of us with grey hair are now enjoying, if that’s the right word, our fourth royal jubilee in 45 years. But our children and grandchildren may never see another one.
