EVEN in black-and-white photographs, the sun is shining. It is June 1949, four years after British forces liberated the Channel Islands from German occupation, and the heir to the throne, Princess Elizabeth, is opening the development of homes built for veterans at Grève d'Azette in Jersey. A little girl, Sheila Le Breuilly, has been chosen to present a bouquet of yellow roses to the princess. She wears ribbons in her hair and executes a well-practiced curtsey.
Fast forward to 2001. Since 1952, Princess Elizabeth has been Elizabeth II; she has returned to Jersey, a dependency of the British crown. On this occasion, it is not yellow roses that the monarch receives, but a brace of mallards, imported from nearby France, as the species is protected in Jersey.
Yellow roses, you may think, are preferable to dead ducks, but the latter constitute a highly symbolic offering, a reminder of the homage that, centuries ago, the island's ruler expected from Jersey's lords of the manor. The island's links to the Crown pre-date many aspects of the UK's royal heritage.
The Channel Islands were part of the Duchy of Normandy before William the Conqueror successfully invaded England in 1066 and, in Jersey, islanders have been known to joke that, in 1066, they were on the winning side at the Battle of Hastings. In this sunny island granted self-governing status by King John more than 800 years ago, the gift of mallard, presented on a silver salver, acknowledges the authority of the current 'Duke'-for the past 70 years, Her Majesty The Queen.
هذه القصة مأخوذة من طبعة July 20, 2022 من Country Life UK.
ابدأ النسخة التجريبية المجانية من Magzter GOLD لمدة 7 أيام للوصول إلى آلاف القصص المتميزة المنسقة وأكثر من 9,000 مجلة وصحيفة.
بالفعل مشترك ? تسجيل الدخول
هذه القصة مأخوذة من طبعة July 20, 2022 من Country Life UK.
ابدأ النسخة التجريبية المجانية من Magzter GOLD لمدة 7 أيام للوصول إلى آلاف القصص المتميزة المنسقة وأكثر من 9,000 مجلة وصحيفة.
بالفعل مشترك? تسجيل الدخول
Save our family farms
IT Tremains to be seen whether the Government will listen to the more than 20,000 farming people who thronged Whitehall in central London on November 19 to protest against changes to inheritance tax that could destroy countless family farms, but the impact of the good-hearted, sombre crowds was immediate and positive.
A very good dog
THE Spanish Pointer (1766–68) by Stubbs, a landmark painting in that it is the artist’s first depiction of a dog, has only been exhibited once in the 250 years since it was painted.
The great astral sneeze
Aurora Borealis, linked to celestial reindeer, firefoxes and assassinations, is one of Nature's most mesmerising, if fickle displays and has made headlines this year. Harry Pearson finds out why
'What a good boy am I'
We think of them as the stuff of childhood, but nursery rhymes such as Little Jack Horner tell tales of decidedly adult carryings-on, discovers Ian Morton
Forever a chorister
The music-and way of living-of the cabaret performer Kit Hesketh-Harvey was rooted in his upbringing as a cathedral chorister, as his sister, Sarah Sands, discovered after his death
Best of British
In this collection of short (5,000-6,000-word) pen portraits, writes the author, 'I wanted to present a number of \"Great British Commanders\" as individuals; not because I am a devotee of the \"great man, or woman, school of history\", but simply because the task is interesting.' It is, and so are Michael Clarke's choices.
Old habits die hard
Once an antique dealer, always an antique dealer, even well into retirement age, as a crop of interesting sales past and future proves
It takes the biscuit
Biscuit tins, with their whimsical shapes and delightful motifs, spark nostalgic memories of grandmother's sweet tea, but they are a remarkably recent invention. Matthew Dennison pays tribute to the ingenious Victorians who devised them
It's always darkest before the dawn
After witnessing a particularly lacklustre and insipid dawn on a leaden November day, John Lewis-Stempel takes solace in the fleeting appearance of a rare black fox and a kestrel in hot pursuit of a pipistrelle bat
Tarrying in the mulberry shade
On a visit to the Gainsborough Museum in Sudbury, Suffolk, in August, I lost my husband for half an hour and began to get nervous. Fortunately, an attendant had spotted him vanishing under the cloak of the old mulberry tree in the garden.
