If there’s any occasion when you run the risk of being under-dressed it’s this.
Arriving in the House of Lords for the State Opening of Parliament, I immediately notice my mistake – I’ve left my tiara at home.
Foolishly, I now realise, the high street number I wore to my sixth form prom is long gone – chucked out years ago.
And – let’s face it – my smartest office dress hardly cuts it alongside the Cinderella ball gowns and fairy godmother frocks in the chamber below.
Luckily, I’m only a spectator to the lavish spectacle of pomp and ceremony on display.
Looking down, there’s a sea of red and gold – and so much bling.
And that’s before the Queen arrives.
Like a school assembly, the peers and their guests – seated in rows – chatter excitedly.
All of a sudden, a hush falls across the House as some uniformed guards arrive at the entrances by the throne, but it’s a false alarm.
The TV screens – conspicuously modern next to the ornate decor – show Elizabeth II still on route.
Conversations resume and the chit chat gradually loudens – until a fanfare announces her arrival, this time for real.
The silence falls again and the Queen sweeps in wearing the robes of state – helped by three page boys – and imperial state crown.
Accompanying her is the Duke of Edinburgh; the Prince of Wales and Duchess of Cornwall follow in their wake.
Everyone lurches to their feet.
“My Lords pray be seated,” she declares ahead of an awkward wait while Black Rod summons the Commons.
And then – led by the PM, MPs traipse into the Lords.
The noise level rises as they file in at the back – like the naughty school kids – and someone’s phone goes off.
It’s an inauspicious start, but undeterred the ever-professional Queen launches into her speech.
Just minutes later – I blink and almost miss it – she’s off again, just like that.
And, the headteacher gone, the commotion erupts once more. Class dismissed.
