Читать книгу The Other Side of the Coin: The Queen, the Dresser and the Wardrobe - Angela Kelly - Страница 25

EDUCATING

ANGELA

In those early years at Buckingham Palace, I remember feeling very aware that some people might look down on me. I was, after all, from Liverpool and had a Scouse accent, not to mention that I was divorced with three children, and possibly not the ideal candidate to be working for The Queen. Even though I knew Her Majesty had particularly requested me after her visit to the British Ambassador’s Residence in Berlin, I thought other people might not understand why I was chosen: they might think I did not belong, and I wanted to be able to hold my own.

I’ve always wanted to speak nicely. I’m not sure I can say why. It’s not because I want to improve myself, just that I’ve always admired people who speak clearly. I don’t have a strong Liverpudlian accent, but it is there. I had wanted elocution lessons since I was eight years old, and I remember asking the Ambassador in Berlin whether I could take them. He offered me a pay rise and a promotion instead, but I refused as I didn’t want money all I wanted was to feel more at ease with how I presented myself to others – especially now among members of the Royal Household.

Needless to say, when I first started working with The Queen, I became even more aware of how I sounded. Listening to and speaking with Her Majesty, I would think, how wonderful to be able to speak so nicely, and after a few months of working with her, I plucked up the courage to ask if she knew anyone who might give me the elocution lessons I’d wanted for so long. The look on The Queen’s face was a picture. She simply asked, ‘Why?’ After I had explained, she said that it was not necessary and that she’d heard about my plan – the Ambassador had told her. I asked again and again, but she still refused. After much back and forth, Her Majesty eventually told me to go upstairs and talk to the Duchess of Grafton about it.

I ran up straight away, and found the Duchess waiting for me in the corridor. ‘Your Grace, I was wondering if you could put me in contact with anyone you know who could give me elocution lessons,’ I said.

The Duchess started laughing and I realised The Queen had called her in the time it had taken me to run up the stairs. ‘Look, Angela,’ she said, ‘if you speak slowly, it means you speak clearly. Just keep The Queen laughing – that’s all I ask of you.’ But that still wasn’t enough for me.

Later that day, I went back to see The Queen and mentioned that I’d spoken to the Duchess. ‘Oh, and what did she say?’ she asked. I repeated the advice I’d been given and Her Majesty seemed content. ‘Well, there you go,’ she said.

‘But that’s not an elocution lesson,’ I responded, then told Her Majesty my new idea: ‘You can give me elocution lessons! You can tell me what I say that’s correct and what I say that isn’t.’

The Queen could probably sense that I wasn’t going to give up, so she instructed me to say one word: ‘furious’. ‘Fyer-ri-ous,’ I responded.

‘No, fee-or-ree-ous,’ said Her Majesty, in perfect received pronunciation. After several more attempts, I finally cracked it and Her Majesty exclaimed, ‘Yes!’ and her finger went up in the air, followed shortly by, ‘Not sick as a parrot’. And that was it – my one and only elocution lesson, and from The Queen herself. From then on, I listened and tried my best to speak properly – even adding an aitch to words where it didn’t exist – but in the end I gave up: it was just too much effort. Ever since I’ve stuck to being myself, a girl from Liverpool and a proud Liverpudlian, too.

In The Splash with the dogs in Windsor Home Park in 1998.