One of my earliest memories is from the Silver Jubilee of the late HRH Queen Elizabeth II in 1977. My parents dressed me as ‘John Bull’ for the street party on June 7, where I sat alongside my sister, Carole, and my brother, Tony. Then, later that same month, we stood by a roadside in Liverpool, cheering as the Queen and Prince Philip passed by, astonished that we were so close.
I wonder what some of your earliest childhood memories are, and do you think those moments have played a part in shaping the story of your life? Also, do you recall the late Queen’s Silver Jubilee, and if so, what are your recollections of that year when everything seemed, well, happier?
Looking back to those events, it would have been inconceivable that someday, in some way, my family would find any connection to that world. Queen Elizabeth II embodied qualities that were admired in the UK and around the world – integrity, impartiality, and commitment to public service.
Back to Portugal, I woke up on one of those beautiful mornings when there was nothing of great importance planned for the day. I decided to take a walk to the post box, which is about 1 km from the farmhouse. As I opened the post box, I noticed an envelope that looked different from anything I had received before. Its colour was unusual, its depth was deep, and the paper was textured. But what I also noticed was that the top of the envelope read ‘On Her Majesty’s Service’.
At that moment, my mind drifted back to another May, this time in 2015, when my sister Carole and I were in London having lunch at a restaurant in Soho. We were enjoying each other’s company, over a glass or two of wine, when Carole glanced at her watch and suddenly exclaimed, “Oh no, we’re going to be late!” We quickly settled the bill and hailed a hackney cab. The driver asked, “Where to, governor?” We both immediately replied, “Buckingham Palace!”
Upon arriving at the Palace, the guard, knowing we were late and aware of our need for wheelchair assistance, told the cab driver, “I’m making an exception; I’m opening the gates, and you can drive in.” As we sped across the forecourt and beneath the Palace balcony, where so much history had been made, I turned to Carole and said, “If our parents could see us now.”
After enjoying refreshments at the Garden Party, Carole and I were selected to meet the Royal Family. The Queen was exactly as one would expect: charming, polite, and exuding gravitas. The same could be said for Prince Philip and Princess Anne. The next member we were introduced to was Princess Beatrice, who had previously made headlines worldwide for wearing a headpiece that had drawn comparisons to a ‘Pretzel’ at the wedding of Prince William and Kate Middleton. Carole, unsure how to start the conversation, said, “I have to say, your fascinator is better than the one you wore at the wedding!” Thankfully, Princess Beatrice appreciated the humour.
At that time, my work included being accountable for the smooth running of the tax affairs of the Royal Family, the Prime Minister of the day, and Members of Parliament. (Thanks to Laura Walton, Dorothy Brown, Nick Tooby, Jo Mitchell, Christine Fackrell, Jan Owens, and the whole team).
Back at the farmhouse, I decided to make a coffee and read the letter on the patio. The first paragraph conveyed the most unexpected news: I was to be appointed an Officer of the Order of the British Empire (OBE). The instructions were clear: I shouldn’t tell anyone at this stage. However, I couldn’t help but call my parents in confidence. When I spoke to my mother, Alice, I said, “Maybe I shouldn’t accept the honour since my time in London is over.” I won’t share her exact colourful words, but it’s safe to say that Alice wanted her day in Wonderland!
The honour was, in part, recognition of my work to ensure that people pay their taxes to fund the UK’s vital public services. However, it was primarily for what I had done voluntarily outside of my official duties, sometimes taking risks, to help make a difference to people’s lives. In my eyes, I don’t see a disabled person; I see a person. There are countless life stories to illustrate this, ranging from supporting a disabled couple living in poverty in Birmingham to working with a talented disabled journalist in Scotland. I also intervened on behalf of the then-Chancellor of the Exchequer, George Osborne, who had been booed during the London 2012 Paralympic Games due to his austerity measures affecting people with disabilities.
On November 7, 2019, my father, mother, and sister joined me at Buckingham Palace. Since only three guests are allowed, my late brother Tony couldn’t be there with us. However, he was so proud that he would tell anyone who would listen about it. That was Tony – caring, loyal, and genuine.
As we entered the Palace, we were escorted toward the Ballroom where the investitures are held. The orchestra began to play, and it truly felt like ‘Wonderland’; perhaps that’s how it is meant to feel. At that moment, those receiving honours were taken aside and given instructions on etiquette. It was then announced that the then-Prince Charles would be awarding the honours. I’m not going to lie to you; I had mixed emotions about this development.
My favourite Royal, who will always hold a special place in my heart, was Princess Diana, thanks to her groundbreaking work for people suffering from HIV/AIDS. I vividly remember watching BBC News in April 1987 and seeing Princess Diana at a London hospital in front of the world’s media, shaking hands with a man suffering from the illness. She did this without wearing gloves, publicly challenging the misconception that HIV/AIDS was transmitted by touch. In that single gesture, she demonstrated that the condition required compassion and understanding, not fear and ignorance.
Then another memory flashed back, when I stood outside Westminster Abbey on September 6, 1997, at the funeral of Princess Diana. Where her circle of life came to an end, as ever, under the glare of the world’s media. And now here I was at Buckingham Palace, having to square a different circle.
When my moment arrived, Prince Charles pinned the medal to my lapel and started a conversation. After exchanging pleasantries, he remarked, “It must be difficult working at the heart of government during these tumultuous times,” referring to the saga of Brexit. I replied, “I don’t work there anymore.” Curious, Prince Charles asked, “What do you do now?” I responded, with a touch of intended wit, “I live in Portugal, and it’s fabulous!” At that point, he ushered me away. I like to think that Princess Diana would have approved and smiled at this exchange. My mother would later say, following the coronation of King Charles III, “You’ve met a Queen, and now a King.” To which I quipped, “I’ve always preferred a Queen!”
Back to where that unexpected day started, Beagle Ben and I sat on the patio with the letter in my hand, looking at the valley before us. I reflected that it was now 12 months since I had arrived in Portugal, and ‘A Year in Monchique’ had come to an end. Although the farmhouse had not yet been legalised, that would happen a year later.
What I knew for certain was that this was now the place I called home. Perhaps each of us has their own dreams for their lives. My dream began on a day trip from Albufeira to Caldas de Monchique with my family over 30 years before. I’d worked really hard, and my dream came true.
Acknowledgments: I would like to thank Paul McKay for his original idea and for agreeing to let me continue the story that he and his partner, Martyn, started many years ago. To the people of Monchique, thank you for your welcome. Finally, thanks go to you, the reader, for letting me share this story with you. I wish you every happiness in your own Portuguese adventure.
This column is dedicated to Carole Hughes, the most beautiful, loving, and inspirational person that anyone could ever wish to meet. The rock of my life, we do what people say we can’t do, “Because we can!”
