I Got the Fever (Royal Wedding Fever)

Okay, I'm not ashamed to admit I had a look at the Royal Wedding on Saturday night.  Notwithstanding the cool aloof insouciance I try to project, I am a sucker for weddings. I watched my first Royal Wedding in 1981 when Prince Harry's parents married.  I hated Diana's dress.  Still do.  Even by Eighties standards I thought it absolutely appalling.  It took excess to a level even Rose Porteous wouldn't attempt.  It was a crumpled tizzy mess with bouf and puff and pomposity all over the place. At best, it looked like it needed a hit with the iron. At worst, it resembled a wad of scrunched up toilet paper.  Of course, everyone remembers Diana's (apparently endearing) mix-up of Charles' names.  Instead of vowing to Charles Phillip Arthur George, she vowed to Phillip Charles Arthur George.  As we watched in our lounge room, my older brother roared like a troll on nitrous oxide. I think there's a reason Diana did this, alongside the understandable nerves (let's face it, she was being watched world-wide and had not long seen Charles' still-close ex Camilla in the congregation).  But how does this sound for an explanation? When forming phrases, people find it more natural to use the word with the short 'i' sound first, before a word with the other vowels.  This is why we say 'clip-clop' (although the horse's hoofs all make exactly the same sound), or 'ding-dong', or 'tick-tock'.  This riveting phenomenon is known as ablaut reduplication, and since learning of it, I suspect it played a role in Diana's slip-up.  Even now, if I have to recite HRH's names - not that I am often required to do this - I seem to think Phillip Charles first.

But back to Harry and Meghan.  Yeah, I thought she looked gorgeous.  The dress was elegant simplicity which melded beautifully with the tiara and veil.  The tiara - oh my god!  I sighed orgasmically when I saw it.  I even liked the veil, with it's homage to the traditional national flowers of the Commonwealth, and Meghan's home State.  This is high praise from me; I dislike veils - they make me think of mosquito netting and some kind of female oppression - and I refused to wear one at my own wedding.  Seeing Prince Charles escort her along the aisle put a lump in my throat; such a lovely and welcoming gesture.  Meghan's mother projected a poise and elegance that matched any member of the Royal family, and thank heavens Meghan's arsehat father and half-siblings were nowhere in sight.  The couple themselves looked so lovely, and I melted at the tenderness with which Harry used his thumb to stroke Meghan's hand as they were seated. He has matured into a terrific guy, and she has somuch grace, style and confidence.  I cannot believe I am gushing so.  What is wrong with me?

I also enjoyed seeing what the guests were decked out in. The York sisters are probably still wincing at the reactions to their headwear (Eugenie in a blue vulva, and Beatrice in shell-pink antlers) from the wedding of Wills and Kate, and wore more sedate head apparel this time.  Amal Clooney looked stunning; indeed, all the guests I saw looked appropriate and dignified.  But why-oh-WHY can't Victoria Beckham ever bloody smile?  I'm imagining the Beckhams getting ready to step out in public:

David: 'Come on, Vicky; we gotta go.  Do I have my shoes on the right feet?'
Victoria: 'Hang on, David.  I've got to suck a lemon first.'

I've read she does not like how she looks when she smiles. But surely a smile is better than looking like this:

Not sure who modelled it, but I guess he's on his way to get his saucer of milk, or kill some native birds. 

Now, to answer some of the social media questions I've been reading about the nuptials, and all things related.

1.  Major James Hewitt is not Prince Harry's father.  So what if they both have red hair? Diana's brother and one of her sisters are also rangas.  Furthermore, Harry was born in 1984, and the affair between Diana and Hewitt started in 1986.  I'm sure he didn't cross the fourth dimension and impregnate her around Christmas 1983.

2.  For those in the US, Meghan is not now a princess.  She is a duchess.  Duchess of Sussex, to be precise.

3.  For those saying the daughter of Earl Spencer (Diana's brother) is the lookalike of her late aunt, she's not.  Get to Specsavers post-haste.  I will say Lady Kitty is pretty, and I adored the green dress she wore to the wedding. But she is not the lookalike of Diana, and everyone stop saying this, please.

4.  Again, and this one goes out to the former Posh Spice: for God's sake, bloody learn to smile.

Anyway, I'm signing off now. Maybe I should look for my usual acerbic attitude, which I appear to have misplaced in my enjoyment of the wedding.  

I was very worried yesterday morning when I saw my oldest son with a broom.  I thought he had been kidnapped, and an evil foreign lookalike spy sent in his place.  My son NEVER sweeps his floor unless he is asked.  Countless times.  But I relaxed when I saw him using the handle to retrieve his soccer shin pad from behind the dresser; I knew he was the real thing.