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11
Sept 2022
This column is written for the Stray Ferret by Sir Thomas Ingilby, of Ripley Castle.
I was 18 when my father died and too young to appreciate how his unexpected passing would change my life forever.
I inherited a title (a Baronetcy - the most junior rank of knighthood), an ancient castle and an institution that was steeped in seven centuries of tradition. I inherited a privilege – and an imposition. The life and freedom that I had fondly dreamed of disappeared: I was metaphorically handcuffed to the castle radiators. Having been given a title by accident of birth I have spent 49 years trying to earn it.
But the pressures that I faced were a tiny microcosm of the huge challenge that the 25-year-old Princess Elizabeth inherited when her father died. She found herself catapulted into the global spotlight and suddenly had to deal with momentous matters of state every day while bringing up a family of four.
People expect their monarchs to be wise but not arrogant, dignified yet personable, firm but with a sparkle in the eye, to have a cheerful countenance all day, every day: there can be no such thing as ‘an off day’ or ‘a bad day at the office’ for a monarch. Mistakes at that level can have terrible consequences and when you are under that kind of pressure it is impossible to relax. Little wonder that she found so much contentment away from the spotlight at Balmoral, a place where she could just be herself.
We were fortunate to meet the Queen on several occasions and she was always the consummate professional, chatting to everyone, no matter who they were, putting them at their ease, captivating them with the sparkle in her eyes. She was genuinely interested in everyone that she met and it showed in the warmth of her approach. She had an agile mind and a great sense of humour: any nervousness that you had about being in her company was rapidly disarmed by her approachability.
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