Thoughts on the Queen's Great Occasion There's been a Brazilian rainforest-worth of description, opinion and comment on the great Jubilee, and while everybody, not least Her Majesty, would welcome a respite, and a chance to lie down in a darkened room for a long period of rest and reflection, you sorely misjudge me if you think that I'm going to pass up on the opportunity to give you my thoughts, as an insider, on the Queen's Great Occasion. Yes, I was lucky enough to be closer to the action than many, and the proud recipient, along with 12,000 ballot winners and charity guests, of a special Jubilee picnic hamper, which everybody tucked into with a will in the palace garden before the great concert. And if you were wondering what Heston Blumenthal had done in the way of molecular gastronomy to merit that seat in the royal box for the concert, look no further than the aforementioned hamper. For the picnic menu was his creation. In the interests of more mundane tastes, old Hest reined in his natural instincts to try us with bacon-and-egg porridge, or foie gras done up to look like a mandarin orange. A chilled British country-garden soup would probably have worked better on a warmer June evening, but nobody gets hot stuff at a picnic. Apart from my late father-in-law, who always insisted on bringing a Primus stove to the family's picnics in the Dublin Mountains, the better to enjoy his usual Sunday lunch of hot soup, boiled ham, potatoes and cabbage, prepared by his long-suffering wife, while he took in the scenery with a nourishing bottle of stout. If you remember the erratic performance of the Primus, you'll understand why the family always returned home drained of all emotion. "Best of British Potted Duo" sustained the loyal note for the picnic hamper mains, although "English Breakfast" might have been a more appropriate choice than "Lapsang Souchong" tea with which to smoke the Scottish salmon. The old favourite, coronation chicken, was replaced by a Diamond Jubilee bird that certainly tasted fresher, as well it might, after 60 years. The pudding was Sandringham strawberry crumble, and if your sweet tooth was still unsatisfied, Madeira cake, although again, a Victoria sponge might have been a more suitable choice. There was West Country farmhouse cheddar, with biscuits that could only have been Duchy Originals. And it all came with a voucher that could be redeemed against a glass of champagne, or beer. It's a good job the picnic was over, and everybody around the front for the concert, when a rocket broke loose from its moorings during the magnificent firework display at the finish, and zoomed over the palace to crash into Her Majesty's garden. Thank heaven Madness had vacated the roof - and that Alan Titchmarsh wasn't there, pottering about the garden shed.