A newspaper photograph in black and white, taken amongst the rubble of shattered concrete, buckled walls and shards of glass, shows her smartly dressed in a calf-length coat and matching dress, gloves gripped tightly in her left hand, purse tucked firmly under the elbow. Incongruously, given the situation, one of her famously-styled hats perches jauntily on her head, the half-heel pumps on her feet seeming woefully inappropriate for clambering over slabs of building materials.

 But her appearance masks her feelings, for she has a look of dazed disbelief on her patrician features. Accompanied by her husband, King George VI in naval uniform, Queen Elizabeth is seeing, for the first time, bomb damage to her home at Buckingham Palace, in the heart of London. On this morning-after-the-night-before -- a night when high explosive and incendiary bombs rained down in the darkness, levelling whole streets of closely packed houses and shops, starting fires which still burned out of control, she shared the emotions of those among the ruins of their homes and lives. Queen Elizabeth was to turn to her husband this day in 1940, as helmeted workmen laboured to clear the wreckage: "I'm glad we have been bombed!”, she said firmly. “It makes me feel I can look the East End in the face," -- a reference to the terrible toll in death and destruction which had already been taken on that crowded, densely-populated area of Britain's capital city.

            This was during the first year of World War Two, when bombers of Hermann Goering's vaunted Luftwaffe made their nightly, deadly forays across the English Channel and up the River Thames to unleash yet another attack on the citizens of one of the world's most famous and populous cities. Many had already fled to relative safety in the countryside or to complete safety in North America. But the members of the Royal Family were staying put. King George VI and Queen Elizabeth had already determined to remain, keeping with them their daughters Elizabeth and Margaret. It was an example of steadfastness and fearlessness that would endear them to their fellow-Britishers, and would help sustain them during the dark days which were still ahead.

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            The ninth of ten Bowes-Lyon children, Elizabeth was celebrating her 14th birthday on August 4th, 1914 when World War broke out. A brother would go off to fight in France while, unbeknownst to her, the man who was later to become her husband would see action at sea. Aboard a Royal Navy warship the Duke of York would be in the Battle of Jutland, one of the most costly sea battles ever fought in terms of lives lost. The son of King George V, Prince Albert Frederick Arthur George -- known to his close friends as "Bertie" -- met Elizabeth Bowes-Lyon at one of the many dances which were part of the London social whirl of the “Roaring Twenties”. Excellent dancers, they were often paired off and Bertie soon became smitten. As did Elizabeth -- but not with the Duke of York -- instead, with his dashing brother David, Prince of Wales, heir to the throne. Undaunted, Bertie ardently wooed, and eventually won, the heart of the beautiful young woman. More than a million people flooded into London to see and cheer Elizabeth, now Her Royal Highness the Duchess of York, and her husband as, following their marriage in 1923, they were driven in the Royal Coach to Buckingham Palace from Westminster Abbey. When Elizabeth married into royalty she realized her life would change forever. And, eventually, it did -- although not in the way she had imagined. For 13 years, with their daughters Elizabeth and Margaret, they had lived a quiet, comfortable life, but that was soon to differ dramatically from what it had been. King Edward VIII, who only 11 months earlier had taken the throne after the death of Edward VII, abdicated to marry a twice-divorced American, amid much criticism and public scorn. Suddenly, his younger brother “Bertie” was King -- and Elizabeth his Queen. Both were to be thrust into an unrelenting spotlight that neither had expected -- or wanted..

Short years later, this exposure was to increase by a hundred-fold when war broke out again. It was then that Queen Elizabeth rose to the challenge of standing stalwartly alongside her husband, a man now daily in the public eye. He was also a man who for most of his life had suffered with a variety of ailments, now seriously aggravated by pressures created by the Nazi threat to Britain and its way of life. The Queen was his quiet, strong bulwark during these terrible years. His death to cancer in 1952 moved her to say: "My only wish now is that I may be allowed to continue the work we sought to do together." And, following her daughter's coronation, as Queen Mother -- “Queen Mum” to Britishers, she set out to do just that, and succeeded. She had always said that her favourite hobby was “liking people” and it was in this role that she will always be remembered, particularly by Canadians, whom she had visited first in 1939 with King George VI in a six-week coast-to-coast tour and 13 times as Queen Mother between 1954 and 1985. No one who met her ever forgot her. Her blue eyes -- blue was also her favourite colour -- her gracious manner, her ability to sit through long, boring speeches and presentations without a hint of displeasure and then do the famous Royal “Walkabout.” Moving to areas where her admirers awaited -- small children waving flags, war veterans with highly-polished medals, men and women who just wanted to say how much they loved her, proffering bouquets of now wilted wildflowers -- she charmed everyone. This was the role she appeared to have been born to play. As Queen to King George VI she had resolutely remained in the background. Now she had a different role to perform -- to be on stage in the world theatre, as it were, and to demonstrate to those watching that her values had not changed, no matter what. Although she could easily have retired to her family home, Glamis Castle in Scotland, gone trout fishing or to the horseraces, instead she opened flower shows, cut ribbons at school openings, judged children's artwork, visited hospitals, -- making hundreds of public appearances and "showing the flag" of which she was so proud. Duty came first, her own wishes well back in second place. Consequently, her popularity as a member of the Royal Family remained at a consistently high level, despite the fact other members were regularly -- often deservedly -- denounced for their public performances and indiscretions in British newspapers.

            As the passage of time, and two hip operations, took their toll and the Queen Mother was forced to slow the pace, she continued to make as many public appearances as possible, getting as close to the British people as she could. And every year, in August, when her birthday was marked at the Palace in grand style she was there, gloriously hatted and gowned, the way they always remembered her. Despite the fact she had said "I’m not sure anyone will turn up." the Queen Mother's 100th anniversary drew enormous crowds into London in the Millennium Year to share in her birthday celebrations and to wish her well. From the balcony of Buckingham Palace, dressed in pale blue silk, wearing another of her famous hats, her daughter Queen Elizabeth II at her side, she waved in acknowledgement of the cheers and the singing of “Happy Birthday” by the many thousands gathered outside the gates.

            The following year, her 101st birthday celebration was to be one of her last public appearances. Despite her now weakened condition, in February 2002, she attended the funeral of Margaret, her youngest daughter, who died after a series of strokes. Six weeks later, in her 102nd year, the Queen Mother died peacefully in her sleep at her home in Windsor. During the lying-in-state period, on the flag-draped coffin in Westminster, beside the crown she had worn at her coronation in 1936, was a hand-written note. It read: “In loving memory, Lilibet”, her mother’s pet name for her oldest daughter. On April 9, 2002, the "Queen Mum" made her last journey, watched by over a million people, many showering her funeral cortege with flowers as it made its way to Windsor. There, she was laid to rest as the Scottish pipers she so loved played a  Highland lament. And a remarkable era