Behind the story - An evening with the Queen: How Camilla took away my stage fright
Making-of - that's the name of our new format on stern.de. We want to give you a personal look behind the scenes, tell you about our everyday journalistic life, what we experience during research and what moves us in the editorial office. We start with a short series in which we look back on our moments in 2023.
"45 minutes!" calls the tall man with the serious expression. He is wearing a tuxedo and bow tie and has one hand on the button in his ear. The man is not on the set of the filming of "James Bond", but in the lobby of the Sheraton Hotel in London. He leads us to an elderly gentleman in dress uniform who is waiting at the entrance. The hotel staff are just rolling out a red carpet. "When Her Majesty gets out of the car, please be ready," he explains. "You stand here and you stand here. No, right here." He points his finger at an imaginary spot on the red carpet. "Otherwise you'll block the Queen."
The surreal scene has a backstory: when the London Foreign Press Association (FPA), the association for foreign journalists in London, was looking for a new president a year ago, I accepted in a fit of recklessness. What did a president like that do? Chairing a board meeting once a month, welcoming guests to press briefings from time to time, giving a speech once a year. All harmless. At least that's how it was described to me.
Then came the fall and with it the preparations for the glamorous highlight of the year - the festive FPA Journalism Awards ceremony at the end of November. A high royal guest of honor had accepted, Deborah told me breathlessly: "The Queen!" I briefly considered the concept of coming back from the dead. Then it dawned on me: Ah, the new Queen. Camilla.
"The Queen is coming!"
We London journalists know far more about Camilla than is good for us. In the year of King Charles' coronation, we couldn't help but dig up the long and controversial love story between the two. For us, it's been months of visits to Balmoral or Windsor Castle, reports from the coronation and interviews about what kind of monarch Charles would make.
At some point, pretty much every London journalist comes into view of the royal family - be it at press events or garden parties. However, becoming part of the royal circus for a few hours was not in the job description of a correspondent.
As we all know, the Queen does not appear alone. Her vanguard, the "Royal Rota", arrives two hours before Her Majesty's expected arrival. These "royal correspondents" (yes, it really is a job) from selected British TV stations and daily newspapers follow the royals at every turn during official appointments and report reverently on every last detail of these appearances.
The security guard in the tuxedo isn't finished with me that evening outside the Sheraton Hotel. "Come with me!" he says and hurries into the room with the bar, where distinguished guests and nominated journalists in fine evening wear are standing in groups and making small talk, a glass of champagne in their hands. "If the Queen is to greet the award winners and the jury here, the other people must have cleared the room." I stare into the room at the many, many guests who are all here for the Queen. No one will leave this room voluntarily, that's for sure. "Okay," I say.
Practiced the curtsy at home in front of the mirror
Half an hour later, the hall is at least twice as full and the Queen is right there. "Ten minutes," says the man with the button in his ear and stares at me. I shrug my shoulders in despair in response. In the meantime, the press team from the palace has also arrived. "Go to the entrance," says the man in uniform. "She'll be here in two minutes," says his colleague, who reminds me more and more of James Bond.
Shortly afterwards, it becomes very quiet on the four-lane road in front of the hotel, where the traffic normally roars. The blue lights of the police motorcycles are followed by the royal entourage. Camilla gets out, wearing a long emerald green velvet dress, the color shines briefly in the lightning storm of the many cameras. "Your Majesty," I say, having rehearsed the curtsy countless times in front of the mirror at home. After all, you don't want to end up like Liz Truss, the short-term Prime Minister, who has been circulating the internet as a meme since her audience with King Charles, complete with awkward curtsy , kicking a header.
Queen Camilla, the introvert
We walk towards the wall of TV cameras and photographers in the direction of the hall, me slightly behind the Queen. The room seems even more crowded than before, the guests are taking photos with their cell phones. My colleague Deborah, the director of the FPA, introduces the award winners and nominees, Camilla patiently shakes hands. "How do you do?", says Camilla and "Congratulations", without having the slightest idea who she is talking to. The crowd around her grows denser. Behind the Queen, I can see the alarmed faces of the woman from the palace and the man in uniform. Deborah cuts a swathe through the crowd, I keep my back to Camilla as the rearguard. "If you want group photos, you'll have to find a separate room quickly," says someone from the palace team.
The hotel management does indeed conjure up a room. At last, the Queen has the opportunity to talk to the nominated journalists in peace and, to everyone's relief, pose for official photos.
"Now let's try not to fall down the stairs," says Camilla on the way to the large ballroom in the basement. The murmuring dies down as the Queen enters the hall with us. The guests rise from their chairs. What feels like an eternity later, we sit in our seats, Camilla on my left. Our speeches are on the table in front of us, up on the stage is the lectern with the teleprompters that we didn't have time to test. My speech comes before Camilla's, my nerves are on edge. "You must be good at giving speeches," she says suddenly. "Not at all," I reply, grateful for the distraction. "I'm doing this for the first time and I'm not at all comfortable with it."
"Me neither," says the Queen. We have to laugh briefly at our unexpected confessions: Two introverts in roles we never intended to play. Then I'm called on stage. "Good luck," wishes Camilla.
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In the world of journalism, being named the president of the London Foreign Press Association was an unexpected turn of events for the author. This role led to an invitation from Deborah, the director of the FPA, for the author to attend the festive FPA Journalism Awards ceremony, with the Queen, Camilla, set to be the high royal guest of honor.
Navigating the Royal Rota, a group of selected British TV stations and daily newspaper correspondents following the royals at every turn during official appointments, was new territory for the author. Feeling out of place amidst the distinguished guests and nominated journalists in fine evening wear outside the Sheraton Hotel, the author was given a stern warning by the security guard.
Prior to the event, the author had taken the time to practice the proper curtsy in front of the mirror, not wanting to become the latest meme topic due to an awkward encounter with the royal family, as recently seen with former Prime Minister Liz Truss. After rehearsing the curtsy multiple times, the author awaited the Queen's arrival at the hotel.
As Queen Camilla made her grand entrance, the author greeted her with the proper reverence, grateful for the practice sessions. Camilla, the new Queen, seemed as uncomfortable with the attention and celebrity as the author, which led to a shared moment of laughter and camaraderie as they both approached their speaking roles on the stage in front of the packed crowd.
Source: www.stern.de
