London Escorts is a city loaded with eminence, with statues of rulers appearing in all way of startling spots (See ‘The Suicidal Sculptor’ here and ‘The Misadventures of Brandy Nan’ here for additional on those) and the huge nearness of Buckingham Palace at the edge of Green Park is an indication of our present imperial occupants. From daily papers we know what the more youthful royals (for the most part Prince Harry) like to get up to at night, yet shouldn’t something be said about the Queen herself? How can she involve herself when on holiday?
Stories of royals among us are as old as Escorts in London itself, and I’m certain everybody around my age recollects the Ladybird book with the picture of King Alfred smoldering the cakes (or chunks) he was requested that psyche by a laborer lady. The laborer lady admonished the inept kitchen help, without acknowledging it was the ruler. Alfred was in camouflage in the wake of escaping to the Somerset Levels to avoid the Danes.
A later talk was of the myth-magnet Diana, Princess of Wales escaping Kensington Palace in a baseball top and shades to visit the nearby newsagent, or just stroll along the high road unharassed. Other informal stories made them go out clubbing in a dull wig. In his book A Escorts Duty Paul Burrell depicted purchasing a long, dim wig and substantial glasses with the goal that Diana could have a night out in Ronnie Scott’s London Escorts Club in Soho. She even talked up the man remaining alongside her in the line who, she said to Burrell, had no idea who she was.
Paul Burrell’s part as the main man Diana trusted makes these stories hard to check and there is a whiff of myth about them. The significance of them, similar to the Queen going window shopping, is helpfully given to us by Diana, wondering about the opportunity of camouflage, when she said, ‘I can be me in an open spot!’