Ramps and Royalty

We are staying in an old manor that has been converted into a beautiful hotel. We arrived after dark and drove through the grounds and rounded the corner to see this magnificent building. It was just like in the movies and we gasped at the beauty and the imposing nature of the building. Wow. Us.

Inside the hotel we were assisted ably and friendly by a man of about my age. He would be described by Quentin Crisp as 'one of the stately homosexuals of England'. He told us a bit of the history of the building as we were making our way to our room. He had helped load the luggage cart but then seemed to think his job was stolling to our room with us, engaging in witty banter, all the while with Joe pushing the heavy trolley along. After they unloaded the luggage they came back for me, and again, while Joe pushed me, he walked along with us ... ensuring that I got equal attention. This was what you'd call a truly democratic Queen.

As we got to the door he said, 'I owe a real thanks to our disabled guests.' Here he paused waiting to be asked, I did. He then explained that the building was renovated to accomodate people with disabilities, there are ramps where there were stairs, there were elevators discretely placed around the building, there were wider doors and easier access. I nodded, thinking I knew where he was going. 'My old bones just wouldn't have been able to stand a few more years of those stairs. There were stairs everywhere, stairs for no reason, stairs just to keep the maids and butlers fit. Without these changes I'd have had to leave this job.'

Ramps. They give me access. But more than that, this one allows a lovely gentleman to continue to reign over the manor. To the Queen, and long my he reign.