Royalty passes by the Savoy

Press, 17 July 1980, Page 3

Royalty passes by the Savoy

By

KEN COATES

in London

“But where,” asked the visiting American woman journalist peering from the upper suite window of the Savoy Hotel, “is all the security?’ ' Her question was relevant. Outside, along the Strand, had just swept the Queen Mother and Prince Charles in the : open State Landau, usually reserved for visiting heads of State and the Queen herself. Other Royalty had also passed by in open horsedrawn carriages with people waving from upper windows all along the route, and thousands lining the streets. They were unprotected by bullet-proof shields, armed out-riders or helmeted sharp-shooters. There were only the Household Cavalry, and British bobbies in abundance.

The police no doubt were keeping a close eye on proceedings, but it was all lowkey. “It is the open society ,we have always had in Britain,” explained the man from the “Birmingham Post.” 'Those Royals, they take their chance — and you won’t find it in many countries these days.” Neither would you find the kind of old-world hospitality offered by. the Savoy to visitors and friends to view proceedings. In the style to which it is accustomed, the hotel served champagne and smoked salmon slices, and provided colour television sets, of the procession and the eightieth birthday cathedral service.

On hand was the Chaplain to the Queen, Canon Edwin Young, who officiates every Sunday at the tiny, almost hidden, Queen's Chapel, on the east side of the Savoy. “It’s the Queen’s private chapel,” he explained. “But she never attends there because she is always at Windsor at the week-ends.” It seems the Canon has other duties which include ministering to the staff of London’s big hotels and night clubs. “Had a wonderful wedding the other day,” he said, “A stripper. She kindly did not present herself topless, but was practically bottomless, according to my wife, who said her leaf-like dress did not quite fit at the back.” The Canon always wears his clerical collar when visiting night spots, "Because then the show folk know me.”

One very cold winter’s night, when he had wrapped a scarf round his neck to keep out the icy wind, a lady of the night pushed her buxom build against him and asked whether he would like to avail himself of her services.

“Quickly I unwound the scarf and showed my collar, and said, No, thank you, I’ve got services of my own, thank you,” the Canon said. Outside in the Strand, the crowd had cheered, waved handkerchiefs and plastic Union Jacks (“because of the rain you know”), and given that typical restrained show of loyalty expected of a British crowd.

It only remained for the army of street-sweepers to remove the droppings of the horses which everyone pretends not to notice.