I’m told that
on this day 50 years ago Prince Charles became Prince of Wales
at Carnarvon Castle which makes me feel very old again.
I was on holiday in a village somewhere in Pembrokeshire the name of which I have long forgotten. The locals were getting very excited about the Investiture and a party had been arranged in the village hall. Men were at the top of the church tower rigging an aerial for the new fangled UHF TV transmissions which had only found their way westwards as far as Cardiff. I assume the ceremony must have been shown on BBC2 only. Why would the BBC punish the Welsh like that?
The excitement was contagious and for some reason I decided to drive northwards in my Standard Vanguard to take a look. Checking the map today shows it to be the sort of journey that only the young and foolish would undertake on a whim. I remember two things about it; being held up by sheep and for the only time in my life being pulled over by a policeman several miles short of our destination.
He explained that the elderly couple in the house over there had missed the only bus of the day into town and would I give them a lift so that they didn’t miss the momentous event. Not something that would ever happen in today’s distrusting environment.
Anyway I stood by the road and took this snap of Charles as he was whisked away. By chance I saw him again a couple of days later as he made some sort of tour of the Principality. Not seen him since although I did once bump into his Mum at Waterloo station. The Royal Train was sitting in my platform and I was late home. I was not impressed.