How to cut carping and stir up a battle royal

sight of the Household Cavalry pounding along Princes Street was worth

all the waiting, the warmth of the welcome by the citizenry a brush-off

to the cynics.

I was fortunate enough to be invited to the lunch in the Assembly

Rooms where King Harald made a simple but moving speech, including the

always impressive trick of cracking a joke in someone else's language.

Wish I could do that.

At the function there was

a notable collection of former lords provost and magistrates of every

political hue, indeed just for once the council itself appeared to have

dropped the party favours. Maybe royalty has its uses after all.

The present lord provost, who has not escaped criticism in this

column, deserves the highest praise for the manner in which he conducted

his duties last week.

He is a Scottish Nationalist but first and foremost he is the capital

city's symbol, a role he plays with considerable dignity. Norman Irons

has grown into the job and is highly thought of in the business

community.

The bands, the coaches, the service personnel, the pomp, and pageantry

of the occasion have been too much for the sneerers and moaners, many

of whom are on permanent

guard duty in the Scottish media.

We must not let a little colour into our lives; we could even find

ourselves enjoying

it.

The money could have been spent better is an oft-heard cry. Give it to

the poor, spend it on housing or old folk. Yet if we had handed over

every penny in exchange for a copy of the Big Issue, would the world

really have been a better place, I wonder?

There were secondary moans about the traffic chaos. ''It took me half

an hour to get up Leith Walk.'' So what?

If you want to live in Hicksville, the back of beyond, or just

downwind of the bing, off you go. This is one of the great cities of the

world, we have to gasp at its grandeur from time to time even if that

does mean the number 26 bus is a little behind schedule.

Edinburgh has an indigenous traffic problem, most of the trouble

stemming from the highways committee of Lothian Regional Council.

Its crackpot schemes, ludicrously labelled traffic calming, are

designed to raise the blood pressure of every motorist.

The council is against the private motor car (though not against

riding around in limos paid for by us). Therefore each and every major

road is targeted to make it more and more difficult to actually drive

along.

I never saw anyone speeding down the High Street for instance. Yet

another major reconstruction, at a cost which makes the royal visit seem

spartan, has reduced the width of the carriageway. It takes but one

vehicle to stop, maybe for delivery purposes, to cause instant

grid-lock.

Should an aircraft, maybe piloted by the Prince of Wales, require to

be diverted from Turnhouse, worry not -- we have city centre pavements

that are as big as runways, he can put down on the George IV Bridge.

Mind you, he will be held up at many sets of traffic lights -- Edinburgh

is the world leader in them.

I do not object at all to safety measures, sleeping policemen, bumps,

reduced speed limits et al, in residential areas. No doubt these make a

contribution to a reduction in accidents.

But I want the traffic on main roads to move at a reasonable pace. The

capital is crying out for a proper one-way system but until the zealots

have gone we are quicker to hike.

Forgive me, I digress. The main point of this polemic is to restate

the view that this

country should remain a monarchy and perhaps to realise again the

value of our royal family.

Of course one is disappointed that the marriages of the Queen's

children have not all been happy. For many families that is hardly a

novel situa

tion.

Yes, I wince at the strangulated vowels of the Prince of Wales but I

am convinced he is a sincere, caring person with his country's best

interests at heart. I hope he will come to the throne.

If it were up to me he would be perfectly free, after a

divorce, to remarry and find someone who can be his Queen. A separated

monarch seems a sad option, the idea that the Princess of Wales

can be crowned too is simply

daft.

There will be a requirement for the Windsors to cut back on a few of

the ceremonials of office, to end some of the expensive nonsenses --

like the royal train -- and indeed that is already happening.

They might like to learn from their Norwegian visitors in this field

-- my information is that King Harald likes to pop into his local

library unannounced.

For all the faults of our lot, though, I still would not trade them

for a boring old president. If that is what the Aussies are after it is

no more than they deserve.

The Prime Minister, who is not given to making jokes in any language,

indicated the other day that more state visits might be coming

Edinburgh's way. Cue for rattling of begging bowls and more whines about

the inconvenience.

I have found an instant method of silencing my home city critics . . .

suggest the whole show is moved to Glasgow.

Wee Pat Lally would have a ball. But one female Glasgow councillor,

who was present at the Edinburgh lunch, might search in vain for her

invitation.