THE village has been able to push aside - temporarily at least - our recent crime wave and concentrate of other things, bad (or rather sad) and good. And, for once in a while, the national media has done us a good turn.
It has made us even more determined to enjoy the forthcoming Golden Jubilee despite the deaths of the Queen Mum and her daughter, Princess Margaret, in recent weeks.
Frankly, our plans had not been too far advanced - most people were thinking of a quiet, played-down affair - but the reaction of the media to the Queen Mother's funeral in particular has given us extra impetus.
We are now determined to make the jubilee a huge celebration just to show that we country folk - and I suspect the vast majority of the British people - appreciate the monarchy a great deal more than the chattering classes of North London ever suspected in their wildest nightmares.
The jubilee committee met in the Institute on Monday night to push ahead with our plans but the first half hour was taken up by a heated debate over the coverage of the Queen Mother's death by the BBC and some of the posher lefty papers like The Guardian.
Cousin Kate, in particular, was incensed with the way the BBC's Peter Sissons had handled an interview with one of the late Queen's friends in which he gave the impression that, as far as he and his fellow mediates were concerned, the institution of monarchy had died too.
"It wasn't so much that he was wearing a maroon tie," she snarled, "but the fact that he seemed bored with the whole thing. You get the feeling that some of these TV people think they are the new royalty - and the real royals should be put out to grass somewhere and quietly forgotten."
That started it. What should have been a quiet committee meeting to discuss buntings and balloons, trestle tables and paper cups, turned into a bitter debate - and this wasn't even debates night.
The Major, once proud carrier of the Queen's Commission, got a round of applause when he said quietly: "I swore an oath of allegiance to Her Majesty. If she were replaced as head of state by a politician, what man of honour could possible swear such a thing to one of Tony Blair's cronies?"
No one could think of an answer to that but it became the turning point which switched the meeting from anger to quiet satisfaction. For the people, the ordinary common people, had shown 'em, hadn't they?
This point was made by the Innkeeper's Lady and she was referring to the million quiet, deeply respectful men, woman and children from all corners of the world who lined the streets of London to say their last farewells to one of the 20th centuries most enduring icons.
"That's when the papers and TV people came over all coy," the landlady went on. "They realised that they had misjudged the feeling of the nation and started buttering up to the Royal Family. That was almost as bad as the earlier criticism."
Now it is highly unlikely that the feelings of a group of ordinary, down-to-earth country folk will ever register in the dining rooms of Hamgate, where the chattering classes live.
But a million people turning up and queuing for hours must make some impact on even the dullest mediate brain. Or will it? If it doesn't, then here is one section of society which is totally irrelevant in the 21st century.
Not the Royal Family but a certain type of puffed up, pompous and ill-informed TV personality, the Man/Woman who would be King/Queen.
* The Curmugeon is a satirical column, based on a fictitious character in a mythical village.
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