I did not mean to have an audience with our monarch: it happened by terrifying accident. Years ago, I was at a residential conference centre training to become a barrister and, after a night of spectacularly heavy student drinking, I went to the local church on the Sunday morning in the grounds of Windsor Castle. I was by now sweating gin, I think.

During the service, I realised I was not coping and, worse, that I was unlikely to make it to the end. There being no perfect time to make my escape, I formed a plan to duck out as the last hymn struck up, gulp down some water, breathe in fresh air…and throw up.

And so, duly, as the last hymn was announced by the vicar, I took the opportunity of the congregation rising to its feet to scurry out of the chapel. As I pushed the back door open, the light beamed in and, giddily, I stepped out. There, just feet away - silhouetted by the blazing morning sun – stood Prince Philip and Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth ll. They were waiting outside the church for the end of the service, so they could greet the local parishioners.

I was stunned. The pair of them stood alone, their security some 20m away. My stomach dropped as I experienced the sheer terror of meeting the woman whose face adorns our coins, our banknotes, our stamps and so many more everyday items. There was no escape and no end in sight. It should be noted at this point that I have led a relatively fortunate, privileged life. I have partied with A-list Hollywood celebrities, met prime ministers, dined with CEOs and aristocrats.

Until that moment, I would have considered myself unflappable. But coming face to face with the Queen reminded me I was not. Meeting her was a remarkable, unforgettable moment, bringing with it a sense of awe and recognition, like seeing Michelangelo’s David, multiplied by the star-striking impact of – say – being stuck in a lift with Dame Judi Dench and Daniel Craig, multiplied (thanks to my hangover) with the discombobulation of being on the moon.

For five long, weird, unforgettable minutes the two of them spoke to me as all thoughts of my hangover evaporated. I just about remembered to say “Ma’am” as in spam but only remembered to bow - in a total panic - about two minutes in, mid-sentence. I’m amazed that they didn’t laugh, but I expect they were well-used to their impact on the rest of us. Finally, when the parishioners poured out, I made my excuses and walked away from them, still facing the Royal couple for about 30 metres like a scene from Blackadder, scraping my feet backwards, then I bowed, turned and rushed away.

Convention bars me, I believe, from giving the details of our conversation, but we talked about our families, and about our respective lines of work. I don’t think it would be too much to say that Prince Philip pulled some funny faces while talking about lawyers. They couldn’t have been kinder, cooler customers, they couldn’t have done more to put me at ease. It was a bizarre honour to speak to them for so long, and a day I’ll obviously never forget. The Queen was incredibly kind, warm and interested in what I had to say, in a way which was obviously sincere. As Chief Rabbi Mirvis observed yesterday when paying tribute to her, she was a mensch.

The Queen really seemed to care about her subjects, even the confused, terrified-looking ones, and she gave me her time with kindness and sincerity. She gave us all her life’s work. May she rest in peace.