The proud recipient of two awards from the late Queen, our columnist looks over this year’s King’s Birthday Honours list.
It’s become something of a habit of mine to make a close examination of the list of names of people who are to receive an honour from the monarch and see which I think deserve it and which I’m not so sure about.
Do I think David Beckham deserves a knighthood for services to sport and to charity? Why not? Football never excited me, but Sir Goldenballs seems a decent enough lad.
Roger Daltrey, on the other hand. No doubts there. Oh, the memories of wild nights in my twenties to the tunes of The Who and Daltrey, ‘the god of rock and roll’.
Of the dames, Pat Barker was top of my list of approval for the absorbing novels with which she frequently kept me up all night; Emma Bridgewater makes good pots, but most importantly brought work to the dying Stoke-on-Trent Potteries.
But it was the elevation of Professor Dame Jocelyn Bell Burnell to the highest award of Companion of Honour that pleased me most.
Hers is a classic story where a woman does something amazing and doesn’t get the credit. As a young astronomer, she discovered the first radio pulsars in 1967, but it was her PhD supervisor who was given the credit and who was jointly awarded the Nobel Prize with radio astronomer Sir Martin Ryle. So she now deserves every possible recognition.
I wasn’t too sure about Claudia Winkleman and Tess Daly, but I suppose Strictly is popular, they hold it together and they only got the lowest level of awards – an MBE apiece.
No matter how well-known and admired the individuals on the list may be, I know they’ve been going through the most exciting times of their lives, because I’ve been there – twice. For me, it began in 1999.
First an important-looking letter arrived in a cream vellum envelope. It asked if I was prepared to accept the award of Officer of the Order of the British Empire (OBE) for services to broadcasting. It also asked me not to reveal this news until it was made public.
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Not a chance. I was straight on the phone to Mum and Dad. Will they be able to believe their working-class lass from Barnsley will be going to Buckingham Palace to meet the Queen? Dad said he’d had to take the phone from Mum as she appeared to be fainting.
I could bring three guests. That was a bit of a quandary. My husband David, two sons and parents made five. David had to be there. The boys came to an unusually calm agreement. Ed, the elder, thought it would be better for Charlie to go because, "he tends to get impressed about that sort of thing and he’s only young".
So now there were two. Which of my parents would fill the third spot? I called Dad to explain the problem.
"Well, that’s a silly question, love. It’s Mum, of course. She’s already been out to buy her outfit. Don’t worry, I don’t mind. We’ll come down to London and we can all go out for a posh lunch together. We’re so proud of you, love."
On the day, Mum and I dressed to the nines, as did David and Charlie. The guests were taken to find their seats in the ballroom and the recipients to a long picture gallery to be given instructions on how to queue, how to proceed to Her Majesty and how to address her as Ma’am, as in jam, not Ma’am as in arm.
During the presentations, I stood in the queue waiting my turn, full of admiration for this tiny, very elderly woman who stood throughout, greeted each recipient, handed over their award and made everything work like clockwork. It was a most amazing day and the pleasure it gave my mother was incalculable.
Second time around was 2011. The letter asked if I’d accept the title of Dame Commander of the Order of the British Empire. Yes, please. No issue this time with the number of guests. Mum and Dad were gone and it broke my heart that Mum would never know I became Dame Jenni.
I rang to tell Ed this crazy news. "God, Mum, that’s the same as being knighted. You’re amazing." I asked if he’d be able to come to the Palace this time. "Of course," he said.
We had a wonderful day, blown away again by the Queen’s warmth and professionalism. I never use the title except when trying to book a table in a popular restaurant. Works every time.
On my wall at the bottom of my stairs is a framed certificate. It’s signed Elizabeth R, and the words confirm that I became Dame Jenni.
I pass it every day. Every day I burst with pride.
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