After three years of trading, I was eligible to apply for the Royal Warrant for the Windsor store. Because the previous owner was still involved and I’d been the manager for three years, we had all the data we needed, and I’d been in place as the manager for three years. Ownership wasn’t important; the award was given to the person providing the service, so in 1977, I sent in my application.

Unusually, before being recommended to St James’s Palace, and without prior notice, the secretary of the Royal Warrant Holders Association, Colonel Kewon Boyd, sauntered into the shop, complete with an ivory-tipped walking stick tucked under his armpit, and a couple of subordinates in tow. He introduced himself and then asked in his most British Officer’s accent, ‘Mr. Paatel, your certificate in Pharmacy – is it from the University of the Punjaaaab?’

‘No,’ I replied. ‘From the Heriot-Watt University in Edinburgh.’

‘Ah!’ he barked. ‘Edinburgh, yes, excellent!’

That was good enough for him. The application progressed, and in 1977, I was awarded a Royal Warrant by Her Majesty the Queen, and in her Silver Jubilee year to boot! I became the first non-white in the more than 500-year history of the Royal Warrants to receive it from her.

An announcement of the award was published in The London Gazette, – the source of information on the royal diary and notable events.

The BBC picked it up and wanted an interview, but I chose discretion. I didn’t want to parade myself in public. When it comes to any involvement with the royals, it’s always best to keep your mouth shut tight! Of course, word got out to the locals in Windsor, and what was good enough for the Queen was good enough for everyone.

Over the next few years I was invited to join the Rotary Club, the Lions Club, the Masons, and the local Tories even asked me to stand as a councilor for the Castle Ward. So many opportunities opened up for me. I wasn’t into politics or power; I was just happy to serve, to do my job efficiently and to an A1 standard.

Sometime later, Prince Charles began giving out Royal Warrants. I think he gave out about eight or nine of them including, to his shirtmaker, his shoemaker, and feather maker. I applied to get a Royal Warrant from him as well, but  I didn’t get one.

To be honest, I felt a bit miffed, so I rang Sir John Johnston, the Comptroller of the Lord Chamberlain’s Office at St James’s Palace, expressed my disappointment and asked to know why I had not been granted the award. He invited me down to St James’s Palace for a chat. I went in and walked up a magnificent staircase into Sir John’s vast office.

We exchanged greetings, sat down at his lovely big desk and he ordered us some tea. 

“Mr. Patel, what can I do for you?” he asked.

“Well, I applied for the warrant to His Royal Highness for my pharmacy in Windsor, and I’m sure I supplied all the correct details, but I didn’t get it,”

“Ah yes,” he said. “I remember your name came up in the meeting. The Prince just said, “Not this time.” And that was that!”

Although I was disappointed, it made sense. There were very few people who received the warrant from him, and he knew everyone he had granted it to personally.  I never re-applied after that.

I had my warrant from the Queen, I had not yet turned thirty and I felt on top of my game. Business was better than ever and I had found my place in the world.