Everybody loves a Royal Wedding. Even Karl Marx, probably. And there was a proper Royal Wedding in 1923. Between Price Albert (who later became George the Sixth, and Lady Elizabeth Bowes Lyons, (who later became the Queen Mother – God bless her!). The Bowes Lyons Family were a wealthy lot of toffs, who had made a fortune out of the manufacture of food. They were later to become famous for Lyons Maid Ice Cream, and with the invention of the Lolly Gobble Choc Bomb in the 1970s, the Queen Mum became so rich that she could have disowned the entire Royal Family and spent the rest of her days relaxing on a Carribean Island and never done another stroke of work in her life. But she didn’t, because she typified the British spirit of rolling her sleeves up and getting on with hard work. God bless her!
You would think that the Wedding would have been on the radio, what with that being the new fangled invention of the day. But no. Randall Davidon was the Archbishop of Canterbury at the time and he refused to allow it. He said that it would be outrageous, because men might listen to the broadcast in pubs, and they might even be wearing hats when they did so! So we had to wait until the film of it came to the pictures where there were hardly any men, and none of them wearing hats. I was nine years old at the time, and my sister pearl was 12. Mother bought us little Union Jacks to take down to the playhouse and wave while we watched. Auntie Beryl Came too, and she gave us a huge bag of sweets each. We weren’t allowed to tell father about it. We had a grand time though, everybody cheered and clapped, and the organist played patriotic music all the way through.
Apparently he had to propose to her three times before she accepted. Which surprised me because she had a right thick pair of eyebrows on her and the Price had to be quite a catch, so he would have had his choice of women with daintier facial features. Anyway, as it turned out, they had a good marriage, with some lovely little girls, and she lived to be 102, as a dowager, because her husband popped his clogs in 1952 (too fond of the fags). By the time she died, she was more popular in London than the Kray Twins, and was bestowed the honour of having Barbara Windsor sobbing her eyes out at the funeral. God Bless Her!
Auntie Doris’s Pop pick of 1923: “Yes! We Have No Bananas” by Billy Jones. Could there ever possibly be a song about Bananas that didn’t make you smile? This one was a favourite of Bartlett the Greengrocer, who strangely enough would always have a banana for our Madge whenever she paid him a visit.