I drafted a blog post this morning, when I wasn't intending to watch the royal wedding. I'd got rather fed up with the build up and how it took over the media, when there are so many other important things going on in the world. And those of us old enough to remember the nuptials of Charles and Diana in 1981 know that a fairytale wedding is no guarantee of a happy ending.
But somehow I got sucked in. I was in charge of Son 2 this morning and there is no way he would let me turn over from CBeebies, so I tried to watch the wedding online. I tried the BBC, ITV, Sky News and the Royal Channel on YouTube, but every feed broke up, so I only watched a few minutes at a time. But it was enough to see Kate arriving at the Abbey and to admire her classy dress. I heard little of the vows, but I saw them walk back down the aisle, William looking elated as if, right to the last minute, he really hadn't expected her to actually go through with it. I saw the carriages and the crowds, the balcony appearance and the fly past. I smiled at the relative simplicity of their going away, which I only caught due to feedback on Twitter. It somehow reminded me of how Hubby and I simply walked away from our own wedding reception.
I wasn't expecting to get so involved, but I've lived in London for nearly 30 years and these occasions are what London does so well. The Brits are perhaps some of the best in the world at putting on and appreciating pageantry and if it raises our profile and attracts more tourists to these shores it can't be all bad. Just don't expect one happy day to make things right. It didn't cure a recession in 1981 and it won't now.
And the blog post I originally drafted? I'll save it for another day.