I took riding lessons in England when I was eight. The first real grown-up horse you graduated to after the two pudgy ponies Bisto and Bumble, was a beautiful chestnut named Jubilee. Oh, how you hoped to be told you were riding Jubilee that day.

And what a wonderful word for a celebration, “Jubilee.” It’s gleeful and tasteful all at once. And so, as fifty percent of me should, this weekend I shall celebrate. I’ve made a “cocktail,” thought it’s not Tetley’s nor Yorkshire Gold, it’s not hot, and isn’t served milky — it does contain sunshine, the fortnight-old lemons quickly dying in the fridge and the mint from the herb garden.

I’m calling it “Jubil-Tea.”

Though “Her Majesty” might request something different.

The only other Jubilee sentiment I liked better was a quote from a kid “We’re celebrating this weekend because the Queen’s been on the phone for 60 years!”

Quite.

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• royalty
• jubilee
• great britain