THE decades-long friendship began innocuously enough. In the 1970s, the now retired Anglican bishop of Wangaratta, Robert Beal, began sending telegrams to the Queen Mother on her birthday.

THE decades-long friendship began innocuously enough. In the 1970s, the now retired Anglican bishop of Wangaratta, Robert Beal, began sending telegrams to the Queen Mother on her birthday.

He was always fascinated by her charisma. “I’m 72 — I’m of a vintage when World War II was on, the king and queen were very special to us and politicians didn’t mean much.”

When telegrams “went off the scene”, Bishop Beal began to write.

No doubt, he suggests, the local postman thought him quite mad. But the correspondence triggered an invitation from the Queen Mother’s private secretary: if he was ever in England, she would like to meet him.

Thus it was that the pair struck up their unusual friendship, when Bishop Beal and his wife, Valerie, first went to lunch at Clarence House in 1978.

Whenever he was in England, he was invited. “As the years went on, there was always an invitation to lunch,” says Bishop Beal. “For her 100th birthday there was another invitation.

“Whenever you went to Clarence House, there were always eight or so guests, and it was like arriving for a big party. There was nothing starchy about it. She generated an enormously warm and friendly atmosphere. She had an extraordinary ability to put everybody at ease. There was always a drink thrust in your hand the minute you arrived. She loved her gin and Dubonnet. I always sat on her right. She was great company and a larger-than-life person.”

When the afternoon was over the Queen Mother said: “Give my love to Australia, I love that saying, `Good on you, mate’.”

She was, he says, quoting the title of one of her biographies, The Last Great Edwardian Lady. “You were in the presence of history. It was just a privilege over the years to enjoy her friendship.”

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