The unsettling sensation of a full diary

The Queen’s Platinum Jubilee pageant was officially launched last week, with a splashy press call in the Raphael Court of the V&A. I happen to be co-chair of the pageant, to be held in June next year, alongside the eventmeister Sir Michael Lockett. The Raphael Gallery felt like an appropriate setting, since the seven glorious cartoons, considered the most important Renaissance paintings outside the Vatican, belong to the Queen on longstanding loan. Jubilees are a peculiarly British thing, applauding monarchs for their decades of service, full of ceremony and fiesta; a national celebratory parade through the streets of Westminster and down the Mall to Buckingham Palace. This one, marking 70 years of HMQ’s reign, will be enormous, with 6,000 participants from across the UK and Commonwealth. Before the launch, we subjected ourselves to media training in case of curveballs in the Q&A. What could be the most difficult, awkward questions the British press could throw at us? Just as well we rehearsed. Question 1: Will the Duchess of Sussex be attending?

Part of my brief is helping the fundraising efforts. Jubilees are paid for by contributions from philanthropic individuals and enterprising companies, and we rattle the tin from dawn to dusk. Last week, I called upon six billionaires in five days. Most live along the north side of Eaton Square or the west side of Holland Park. Several, I noticed, have roving security guards, dressed in civvies, who loiter across the pavement watching their front door. As anyone draws near, they mutter into headsets: ‘Lady in red coat walking poodle… gentleman in dark suit approaching with begging bowl.’ It is gratifying how generous potential donors are to the idea of supporting the Queen’s Jubilee. But the process of fundraising is perpetually anxious-making, a mix of elation, despair, disappointment and surprising strokes of luck, combined with endless graft.