There is one other person in this place who attended that school, Gordonstoun, and that is me. When I was at Gordonstoun, I knew that the Duke of Edinburgh took a huge interest in the school, and the pupils and staff were grateful for that, but as others have said, he continued to take a great interest in subsequent years. Indeed, just a few days ago, he sent a message to the school, which is pretty remarkable.
Last summer, the pupils of the school made the Duke some apple juice from trees that he would have known on the south lawn at Gordonstoun. They sent that and some honey to Balmoral for his breakfast. Almost by return of post, a reply came from him saying that they had had the delicious honey and apple juice at breakfast.
Why did Prince Philip take such an interest? As others have said, his life was rackety before he went to Gordonstoun. His family got him out of Germany, probably for his own safety, because, I am told, he laughed at Nazis when they gave the Nazi salute. Gordonstoun gave him stability, order and structure, and I would go so far as to say, knowing the school as I do, that it made Prince Philip. As others have said, he became head boy; he became the guardian. Being the guardian at Gordonstoun, I would humbly submit, is not the same as being head boy or head girl of another school because that position carries a great deal of responsibility. I think that experience is part of what made Prince Philip.
To change the tone of what I am saying, I want to touch on the rug. My wife and I, and our elder daughter, who was then 16, attended Her Majesty’s first reception when the Scottish Parliament was opened in 1999. Having been presented to the Queen, my wife, who was in a wheelchair then, was tired. We went to take her quietly out of the party, but got lost in the Palace of Holyroodhouse. Worse, the wheelchair got tangled up with a rug. To my horror, despite the fact that we had gone to the same school, who should come round the corner but Prince Philip. “Ah, those bloody rugs,” he said. He got down on his knees and helped us to disentangle the rug and the wheelchair. He said, “Tell you what. I know a quick way out of here. There is a lift that the public don’t really know about.” What an act of kindness. I was reminded of it by my daughter just yesterday. That sort of thing stays with you forever.
This is my last point because I have spoken enough. We have a thing called a Scottish election on at the moment, up where I live in the far north of Scotland, but the instant we heard of the Duke’s death, quite rightly it was stopped right away. Since then, over the weekend, I have had innumerable people from Caithness, Sutherland and Easter Ross saying, “Can you pass on our condolences to the Queen?” We have all been bereaved—I have lost both my parents—but, as the hon. Member for Rhondda (Chris Bryant) said, when someone is bereaved and in distress, the sympathy of others can be the balm, the milk of human kindness, that gets them through. I hope that Her Majesty and the royal family know that even in the far, far north of the British mainland, there are thousands of people who extend their deepest sympathy.
6.5 pm