My brain tells me I am a Republican, my actions are those of a Republican, long live the Revolution! So why have I just spent hard earned cash on a Ladybird book about Kate and William for the kids? Why am I fascinated by Catherine and her seemingly un-nerving, steely determination to bag herself a prince? Why is it that I can’t wait to see the wedding dress of the decade? Why is it that I am excited about it all and disappointed that we are not having a street party? Why is it that at the first opportunity I get I shall be racing along to downtown St Albans to our newly opened Poundland to make purchases of tat which will spend longer in landfill than they did to produce? Why did I just watch an entire programme about the happy couple (the second in as many weeks)? Why, why, why?
It’s Charles and Diana’s fault, that’s why. I was six when they got married, my parents got me the Ladybird books about them which I still have and also the official wedding souvenir book. They bought an appropriate table cloth and set up a little table for myself and my sister, with little flags to wave. I felt so excited, to see a real princess and a real prince get married. Diana was so pretty, I had my haircut just like her. I remember when William and Harry were born. They were sort of notable historic moments, of course I remember Thatcher, strikes and so on, but my fondest historic memories are royal.
I want to know what songs they play at the wedding breakfast, I want to know what they will eat. I want to know all about the significance of the flowers, the gifts, who the bridesmaids will be and I REALLY want to see the YouTube of Harrys best man speech. Now wouldn’t that be something.
I feel totally aggrieved at the guest list; fancy inviting the Beckhams and not Fergie or Obama. The shame of inviting all those Arab dictators who think nothing of spending hundreds of pounds on one course of a meal at a restaurant whilst thousands of their countrymen die in poverty. And the expenditure of it all, whilst all around people are losing their jobs, not getting appropriate medical treatment or the education they deserve.
Forgive me, for I feel dirty, but this Friday I shall be glued to the television, analysing every last detail. I shall encourage the kids to revel in the moment and do my best to provide them with memories. Then on Saturday I shall buy all the newspapers and probably do the same on Sunday. The Shame.