I was her Oath Man, probably one of millions. In 1971 I swore an oath to serve her without favour or affection, malice or ill-will in my role as a police constable. I joined hundreds of thousands of other New Zealanders who, over the years, have become oath men and oath women.
I suppose, by today’s standards, that sounds old-fashioned but it meant a lot to most. It provided a tangible act of loyalty and dedication to a calling, whatever that may have been.
The divorces, the death of Princess Diana and the behaviour of Prince Harry and his wife were all stressful. But they are also all matters many families have to contend with in life, making the royal family in a small way just another average dysfunctional family.
I grew up, like most of you, under the Queen’s rule. We shared her triumphs and woes. She visited us often. I was part of her royal bodyguard in 1990 in Auckland at the Commonwealth Games, a privileged memory.
I’m told I first saw her as an infant when she toured New Zealand in 1953.
I do remember, as a small child, seeing the Queen Mother in Taita in 1958, waving my Union Jack with thousands of others in the rain after walking miles under the care of older children to see the procession pass the railway station. I remember a nice old lady waving to me, or at me, not sure.
I met Prince Charles at lunch the day he opened the Royal New Zealand Police College in Porirua in 1981. I was an advanced student there at the time and took part in the welcome parade. He was very easy to talk to, quite humorous, but quite a small guy among the tall timber in the dining room. He circulated throughout the room, coming to us, speaking to absolutely everybody.
In 1983 I worked on the royal tour of Prince Charles, Princess Diana and baby William. I had the dubious distinction of arresting a well-known Māori activist for performing a whakapohane in front of the royal limousine at Wellington Airport. The upside was I met an interesting bloke who I still chat with today. He is still an activist.
Through all this, I was probably a royalist. I felt embarrassed for Her Majesty at the antics of her children; I was saddened by her loss of Prince Philip, Princess Margaret and Queen Elizabeth the Queen Mother, the rocks in her long life.
When the Queen died, my royalist feelings dimmed dramatically. King Charles is an older man. He has not been a perfect son, husband or father, very publicly so. A lot has happened over the years that diminishes him in the eyes of many of us who admired his mother and what she stood for.
We have been asked to forget and move on. I am an adult and I understand that he is not his mother but just another flawed man, albeit one born into immense wealth, privilege and standing. He is now the head of the Anglican Church.
The royal family has changed forever, of course; it’s a different generation. It seems King Charles is taking a more open approach to ruling, willing to humanise the institution of monarchy, remove many from the civil list and prune extravagance. He follows noble causes and seems to want to do good in his time as king.
He has personal challenges to deal with. The ongoing rift with his youngest son needs to be sorted. Time or circumstance may do that. Prince Harry may one day look back and think maybe he should have handled things a little better, been a bit more discerning with those who love him, kinder. I hope all this does not come down around Prince Harry’s ears in the future.
Of course, the stars of the royal family are now Prince William and Princess Catherine and their children. They are outwardly a wholesome, loving family who exude a certain normalcy – if that is a term that can remotely be attached to them.
Long live the King.
