Wedding Bliss or a Right Royal Misery?

I think it would irresponsible of me, as the writer of a weekly blog, not to talk about the biggest wedding this country has seen in thirty years. I apologise to those of you who’ve had it up to here (I indicate a level equal with my neck), but for me it was an interesting experience as I watched it with an open, unexcited mind.



In the days building up to the wedding I put out a facebook status, asking for alternative choices to watching the wedding. Friends responded quickly, encouraging me to join “Republican” parties or accusing me of being a party pooper and that I should celebrate our royal family. I wasn’t trying to make a political statement - I just figured that the wedding show wouldn’t present any surprises or plot twists and the main storyline would be lumbered with senseless and dull interviews with members of the public, fool enough to venture into central London in the hope of seeing the wedding party whiz passed them on their route to and from the Abbey. As no attractive alternatives were presented to me and the constant hype on the television did start to stir my curiosity I found myself getting up far too early on a bank holiday to tune in to the BBC coverage.



I decided to watch the wedding with my girlfriend and her parents. My girlfriend’s mum has been looking forward to the wedding day since the engagement was announced all those months ago. She had dived into the occasion with both feet, providing hats, a ‘royal’ fry up and smoked salmon canapés, all washed down with copious amounts of champagne. We might not have been there at the Abbey and then at Buckingham Palace, but we were at the next best place – the exclusive wedding party in Gidea Park, Essex!



Much to my surprise, I got quite into the whole event. I was particularly impressed by the maple trees in the Abbey and of course the bride (and her sister) looked absolutely stunning. It did hit me that despite her privileged upbringing, her life will never be the same again. She will never go on a tube, bus or a budget airline. That might sound like bliss for most, but I think being so cut off from what you are used to is pretty scary.



Funnily enough – the more I got into the wedding celebrations the more my mother-in-law was getting disappointed. Apparently the wedding was no where near as grand as Princess Diana and Prince Charles’ wedding day.



For me it was all good fun during the service, the balcony kisses and then finally the quick spin in the Aston Martin. But in all, over the course of yesterday, I must have seen the wedding at least four times, with replays and analysis that Match of the Day would be proud of. There’s only so many times I need to see them smile, wave and snog but now we have the added commentary from Sue in Buckleberry, hysterical from the whole spectacle, and important insights from Dave from Middleton in Rochdale on the dress and the flowers and not forgetting the toddlers, dressed as knights and princesses at street parties up and down the country, not yet able to speak, but interviewed nonetheless by the BBC’s intrepid field reporters.



On a more interesting note, did anyone else spot the runaway horse? Just for a second, as the couple journey down the Mall, there is clearly seen a panicked, rider-less horse cantering around like a participant in the Grand National. Apparently the horse had bucked its rider when spooked by the million screaming fans – I’m not surprised I imagine it’s a pretty intimidating sight! I just hope neither the horse nor the cavalryman will get in trouble. Though no doubt the horse will have forgotten the whole thing by now, I’m sure the soldier will never live down the day he was bucked from his horse during the Royal Wedding. Friday might have defined a young couples’ lives, but it also defined the life of one poor soldier.


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