So here I am on the eve of another Royal Wedding, baking and slicing and prepping the marmite sandwiches, just as I fondly imagine my mother did before the last great Street Party Event. At least, I remember her sewing miles of bunting out of old red, white and blue crimpolene on strings made out of old tights (what do you mean, you don’t know how to make string out of old tights? Cut off the legs and start cutting in a spiral about an inch wide all the way to the toe. Then pull. Voila, instant strong and useful string. Tights are pantyhose to you Canucks, but that’s a word too close to Pantywaister for any true blooded Brit, hence the sniggering when you say it).
What is it about a major UK event that turns every UK Expat into an instant expert? Tonight I was asked my views on the latest tabloid opinion that the marriage won’t last. Of course, I have a unique insight into the private life of the Royal couple, as my husband’s brother’s wife’s sister went to University with Wills and Kate. Like the majority of their close friends, not so close friends and distant colleagues, the Sister remained discreet and close-lipped about anything she saw or heard and thus the air of purity and mystery is preserved.
Tomorrow, I am hosting a Royal Wedding Lunch, at which we are wearing large hats, eating English Tea Party food and calling each other by our new Royal Wedding Guest names (choose a title, the name of a grandparent, the name of your first pet and the name of the street you grew up on). In the company of Baroness Harmke Peanuts-Montgomery and Lady Evangeline Fluffy-Gloucester, we will toast a modern fairy tale, and hope that, for once, this one will continue Happy Ever After.