If I were a guest on Desert Island Discs (unlikely) I’d choose Burke’s or Debrett’s as my book. It would be fun drawing family trees in the sand.
The Queen, as you know, is an expert on blood-lines; equine not aristocratic. It was a happy accident that she never looked at the form book when she fell in love with Prince Philip as a teenager. His mother combined saintliness with being bonkers. His father did not set a good example, dying aged 62 in a hotel in Monte Carlo with his mistress. His sisters were mostly married to Nazis. Well, long-priced outsiders do romp home and Prince Philip is one.
He touched the lives of so many; my uncle, Richard Hill, served in the Royal Navy with him in the war; my brother-in-law played polo with him and I saw him over about five years when I was judging and refereeing at Lowther’s carriage driving trials. He competed at an international level with a steely professionalism sometimes lacking in other competitors. That would be enough for many people but, of course, it’s only a foot note to his contribution to Team UK. Unlike his sister-in-law he worked hard, played hard and Got Things Done, usually.
