A perfectly planned ceremonial moment awaits - care home residents are wearing golden paper crowns and waving flags, the national anthem is playing, and a red carpet leads directly to the point where new trees will be planted; but the guest of honour is missing.
Why? Well, Her Majesty is hiding under a table, as many three-year-olds often do. Wigan girl Isla Fairhurst, 3, is the perfect "Mini Maj" - dressing up as the Queen for various ceremonies that don't quite meet the threshold for a real Royal visit.
Isla has certainly had a lot of attention in recent weeks, as the country ramps up for the Platinum Jubilee celebrations at the start of next month, the Mirror reports.
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Dressed in a stunning pink tweed dress from River Island, sparkly kitten heels a la Monsoon, a fancy pink hat courtesy of her local Cancer Research charity shop, and her nana's pearls, Isla is ready to take on any challenge - except wearing the bouffant grey wig over her pigtails. She takes that off pretty regularly to avoid the itchiness.
Emily Retter, feature writer for The Mirror, joined Isla for part of her duties in Nottingham, as the youngster made her second visit of the day for her tenth tree planting ceremony - each one accompanied by a plaque carved by the Royal British Legion. Her account of the day is included below...
Armed with a cuddly Corgis called Rufus and a pink unicorn spade - generally carried by her granddad, Andrew Fairhurst, 59, walking a respectful three steps behind - Isla’s spent the weeks ahead of the Platinum Jubilee visiting care homes to dig holes, plant commemorative trees, shake residents’ hands, and tuck into the party food. The latter’s a stipulation.
She’s weary after the journey from her Wigan home to Nottingham, yet she solemnly trots down the line - then skips - attentively leaning in to offer her tiny hand to residents and listen to their questions with a studious face, solemn nod, and a practised smile. Before racing off and away from anyone who tries to catch her, gleefully grinning under that table.
She can’t resist the digging for long though, even getting stuck in with her hands. “I’m not so sure the Queen digs her own holes,” says Granddad Andrew, as mum Alex Fairhurst, 31, is charged with holding a lump of Blu Tack. What the Queen wants… Then she’s back, chatting, handshaking and waving - a very special Queen’s wave with her small cupped hand.
“What’s your Corgi called?” she’s asked, over and over. “Rufus,” she says patiently with a high pitched chirp. “She’s a girl,” she adds, before swinging Rufus in a circle by her tail at speed. “She loves this bit,” says Alex, beaming. “She’s a natural. I said to her ‘If we got you a Queen outfit what would you do?’ and she started waving like that. I don’t know where she got it from!”
“Why do we do this?” she asks Isla. “To make people smile,” says the little girl, who is particularly fond of her hat. Who can blame her though, if she’s suddenly distracted by a garden gnome, an ornamental butterfly, her own photograph on a cake, a deflated balloon… the list goes on.
“Can you blow this up?” she asks me, thrusting it into my face. Adding: “We haven’t had any party food yet,” and taking her shoes off. Her alter-ego would sympathise wholeheartedly. Isla’s clearly enjoying every second of this, just as the enchanted residents and staff are.
The idea for her unique take on the Jubilee festivities came when her grandmother saw a little girl in the States dressed in a Queen outfit for Halloween. The family are all Queen fans. Andrew served in the Queen’s Lancashire Regiment. “The Queen’s their boss, I’ve drummed that into them,” he laughs. “Isla watches the Trooping of the Colour too.”
Alex, a recruitment lead for New Care Homes, which operates across Greater Manchester, Merseyside and Nottingham, thought a visit from her outgoing toddler in costume would put a smile on their residents’ faces, many still haunted by the pandemic and the restrictive and lonely environment it inflicted upon them.
“Visits from children are really important, they bring laughter,” says Bridget Peck, Wellbeing Officer. “Being able to do things like this is what we did pre-pandemic. The fun is coming back into the job, it’s good to have the hubbub.”
After Isla’s first appearance at Ruddington Manor, Anne Holland tells me she first arrived here three years ago with her husband, Douglas. But in April 2020 she says he died of Covid here, aged 90. He had returned from hospital. She caught it too.
“I miss him terribly,” she says, quietly. “We had been married 60 years, we had our diamond wedding anniversary here. It can get very lonely at times.” Anne, 87, watched the Queen sit alone at Prince Philip’s funeral and saw herself. She describes sitting away from her family with a carer at Douglas’ funeral. “I couldn’t hug them,” she says.
It is no trivialisation of that dark time to say a day like today means a lot. To have a child bring laughter and frivolity is crucial. “Before Covid we used to have nursery children visit,” she says. “They are so innocent and they just accept you.”
Jayne Brenan, 58, who has MS, agrees. She used to teach Reception classes. “Having children here means normality,” she says. “It brings a different energy, and it’s nice to see the other residents light up when they see her.”
I get to travel with Her Mini Maj en route to her second engagement at The Grand. “Come on Emily!” she demands, trotting in her heels as I hurry behind. “Put your seat belt on when we are driving.” I do as I’m told.
There, Freda Bailey, 85, who has dementia, is enamoured. A former chocolatier, she previously supplied the Royals. “Children keep you going,” she smiles, reaching out to Isla who removes a lollipop and grins. She hands the sticky treat to Bridget, official keeper of the sweets. “No licking,” laughs Freda. “I love days like this,” she adds.
