Panicking as I hid behind a wooden screen in the ballroom at Balmoral, I wondered how I'd imagined I could possibly be part of something as traditional, timeless and regal as the Ghillies Ball – an annual event held to thank the royal staff for all their hard work.
As a 13-year-old boy growing up in Airdrie, an industrial town not far from Glasgow, I'd watched mesmerised as our little living room was lit by the flickering light from a television documentary giving unprecedented insights into the life of the monarch and I'd been particularly enthralled by footage of the ball.
There was Her Majesty, dressed in an elegant blue ballgown, with a red tartan sash and a glittering tiara, performing the very Scottish country dance steps that I, myself, had learned in primary school.
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