Buckingham Palace holds a series of garden parties every summer to which people who have done their state some service are invited. Guests are drawn from the ranks of the unsung heroes of British public life - magistrates and mayors, firemen and lollipop ladies, writes Michael Parsons.
Each of the three main events caters to about 8,000 people who flock down the Mall, wearing their best bibs and tuckers, clutching the prized, gold-embossed invitations. Debrett's New Guide to Etiquette and Modern Mannerssuggests that, for such occasions, men should wear "morning dress, dark suits, service uniform, national dress or official dress (in the case of the clergy, etc)". For women it recommends "smart day clothes, such as afternoon dresses, pretty suits or national dress".
"Hats," apparently, "although no longer compulsory, are very much the order of the day but should not be quite as fanciful as those worn to Royal Ascot." And "cameras are strictly forbidden and will be confiscated".
The garden parties begin at four o'clock and last for two hours (though the gates open at 3.15). On the dot of four, Her Majesty appears, accompanied by members of the Royal Family, and goes on a rigorously planned walkabout. Guests are selected at random to be "presented" - though, given the huge numbers, most see the royals only from a distance.
Catering on this scale is a challenge even for the fabled palace kitchens, which are equipped to serve a sit-down meal to only 600 people at a time. So, instead, that quintessential and most appropriate of English meals - afternoon tea - is served in pristine marquees pitched on the palace lawns.
Debrett's notes that "at around five the royal party disappear into their tent for tea with grander guests such as high commissioners [ the Commonwealth, not EU, variety], ambassadors and government ministers, while the rest of the guests are served in other tents".
Now you would think people who are invited to Buckingham Palace would have subjects other than food on their mind - such as enjoying the once-in-a-lifetime treat of swanning about the gardens (which extend, as estate agents say, to some 42 acres and contain a lake, 30 different species of bird including pink flamingos and more than 350 different wild flowers), or admiring the architecture, or trying to catch an equerry's eye to get the nod for a chat with a member of the royal family. But not a bit of it.
Officials of the royal household have revealed that some of the guests are consuming 14 items of food - raising concerns about the beanos' cost, which is ultimately footed by taxpayers. So what's on offer? According to the Daily Telegraph, a typical menu includes: "Lemon barley water; iced coffee and tea; cucumber and salmon sandwiches; miniature scones with jam and cream; miniature éclairs, and triangular, crown-indented chocolates". Sounds simply delicious, doesn't it? Which may explain why certain guests scoff more than their share in the best Billy Bunter tradition.
Few guests have recorded their impressions of the event with the acuity of celebrated diarist Alan Clark, a committed monarchist, and Jeremy Paxman, the broadcaster not known for his subservience.
Clark, a Conservative MP, described his "first time in the Buck House garden" in a diary entry dated Thursday, July 16th, 1981. He recalled "vast numbers of people, most of them in ill-fitting and low quality morning dress, with stained and dog-eared grey toppers". As a keen gardener, he was underwhelmed by his surroundings: "The garden is rather featureless, although the beds and borders are most densely planted and the edges crazily clipped". But as a gourmet, he was impressed by his cuppa. "The tea was delicious, a sort of Indian Hukwa, and so was the fruit cake," he noted, but "other items, like the drop scones and most of the patisserie, were less good". Refreshed, he "joined the line to catch a glimpse of the Royals" and watched as "the Queen slowly made her way along, preceded by a posse of buffers in slightly better-fitting morning dress than the majority of the guests, and made conversation with certain selected invitees - the statutory person in a wheelchair with bearded mentor, etc". He noted for posterity that she wore a "white silk coat" and a "navy blue straw hat".
In his recent book On Royalty, Paxman provides an account of the ritual which continues unchanged into the 21st century: "On a sweltering July afternoon in central London - the sort of weather for shorts and T-shirts and perhaps an aspirin - the gardens of Buckingham palace are swarming with men in waistcoats, tailcoats and hired top-hats; soldiers, sailors and aviators are in heavy uniforms and spit-and-polished shoes; bishops are in purple cassocks and women in new frocks and best hats".
The old growler, in his best "you-cannot-be-serious" style, notes that "bouncers with cut-glass accents" (the Corps of the Gentlemen Ushers) clear the way for Queen Elizabeth and other members of the royal family to mingle with guests. Well, not quite. Only a select few are picked from the throng "for a few words" and they tend to be "almost speechless with anxiety". Meanwhile in the background, Paxman says, "one after another of the military bands plays favourite songs from Mary Poppins or top-ten hits from the 1970s."
By the way, if you are ever invited, please note Debrett's advice that playing of the national anthem at six o'clock signals the end of the party. Guests leave shortly afterwards and thank-you letters are not expected.