A New Novel

This is an idea I’ve been kicking around for ages, let me know if you think it’s got legs...

I don’t care how rich you are, if you grew up in the seventies, you had a Scalextrix. I don’t care how posh you are, if you had a TV in the eighties, you watched the A-team. And I don’t care how lordly you think you are, if you had a telephone in the nineties you had (or at least wanted) a cuddly Buzby. So where do the Windsors keep theirs is what I want to know? Where have they stashed their aging A-team videos, their frayed box of Scalextrix track and their moth-eaten, synthetic-feather Buzby? The answer, is the Queen’s 8. The Queen’s 8 is an island in the river Thames. It’s not very big, no more than a few acres, but it has its own boathouse you can just see from a rise in Richmond Park. It has a small quay, a beach and a spinney of oak trees on the mound at its centre. The hall behind the spinney has a great deal of history attached to it, if you’re interested?

It was bequeathed to an oxford college centuries ago. Technically, they still own it, though you wouldn’t know it to look at it. There are no signs saying so. In fact, there are no signs on the island at all. Nothing tells the hapless trespasser to beware. Nothing warns him of the guard dogs or the sensitive alarm systems stationed all over it. There’s just no need. Anyone going near it, would be intercepted long before they landed on its tidy beach... There’s never any mention of the island in the papers. There’s certainly never been a college away-day to see it. It is the preserve of one family, and one family only, the Windsors. The Queen’s 8 (spelt Eyot) has a special purpose, for which it is in a constant state of readiness. Three permanent members of staff travel to it by boat every day to maintain it. They cut and shape the hedges, tend the lawns, water the roses, clear the gutters, even monitor the number of bubbles in its various spa pools. They polish the silverware, sweep the chimneys, air the bedsheets and fluff the pillows. In case, just in case, it’s needed. The queen’s 8 is a special place, a place where the Windsors can go to relax. On the 8, they can be themselves, they can even be… non-Windsorish if they like. They can dare to be the one thing a Windsor must never be in public… gloriously, disgustingly and disgracefully common! Quite simply, the island is where the queen and her family go to sin. On the 8, her Royal Highness Queen Elizabeth the 2nd is free to indulge in anything the public would think inappropriate. It’s where she keeps all her gaudy, tasteless fashion accessories, her collection of mock leopard-skin boots, her fibre-optic nativity scenes, her lava lamps, her Bakelite Elvis memorabilia and her two-tone, machine-washable football scarves. It’s where the queen goes to get away from being the queen, where she can be plain old Lizzy Windsor again. On the 8, she can be herself and it’s the best place on earth...

[Start Over]

	This is an idea I’ve been kicking around for ages, let me know if you think it’s got legs... I don’t care how rich you are, if you grew up in the seventies, you had a Scalextrix. I don’t care how posh you are, if you had a TV in the eighties, you watched the A-team. And I don’t care how lordly you think you are, if you had a telephone in the nineties you had (or at least wanted) a cuddly Buzby. So where do the Windsors keep theirs is what I want to know? Where have they stashed their aging A-team videos, their frayed box of Scalextrix track and their moth-eaten, synthetic-feather Buzby? The answer, is the Queen’s 8. The Queen’s 8 is an island in the river Thames. It’s not very big, no more than a few acres, but it has its own boathouse you can just see from a rise in Richmond Park. It has a small quay, a beach and a spinney of oak trees on the mound at its centre. The hall behind the spinney has a great deal of history attached to it, if you’re interested? It was bequeathed to an oxford college centuries ago. Technically, they still own it, though you wouldn’t know it to look at it. There are no signs saying so. In fact, there are no signs on the island at all. Nothing tells the hapless trespasser to beware. Nothing warns him of the guard dogs or the sensitive alarm systems stationed all over it. There’s just no need. Anyone going near it, would be intercepted long before they landed on its tidy beach... There’s never any mention of the island in the papers. There’s certainly never been a college away-day to see it. It is the preserve of one family, and one family only, the Windsors. The Queen’s 8 (spelt Eyot) has a special purpose, for which it is in a constant state of readiness. Three permanent members of staff travel to it by boat every day to maintain it. They cut and shape the hedges, tend the lawns, water the roses, clear the gutters, even monitor the number of bubbles in its various spa pools. They polish the silverware, sweep the chimneys, air the bedsheets and fluff the pillows. In case, just in case, it’s needed. The queen’s 8 is a special place, a place where the Windsors can go to relax. On the 8, they can be themselves, they can even be… non-Windsorish if they like. They can dare to be the one thing a Windsor must never be in public… gloriously, disgustingly and disgracefully common! Quite simply, the island is where the queen and her family go to sin. On the 8, her Royal Highness Queen Elizabeth the 2nd is free to indulge in anything the public would think inappropriate. It’s where she keeps all her gaudy, tasteless fashion accessories, her collection of mock leopard-skin boots, her fibre-optic nativity scenes, her lava lamps, her Bakelite Elvis memorabilia and her two-tone, machine-washable football scarves. It’s where the queen goes to get away from being the queen, where she can be plain old Lizzy Windsor again. On the 8, she can be herself and it’s the best place on earth... [Start Over]
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