It was lovely and it went off without a hitch. The Wedding Party was a complete success. I understand the Royal Wedding went as planned also. Bravo.
JoAnn and I arose at 4 a.m. to listen to Piers Morgan discussing one of the early arrivals at Westminster Abbey, a lower level royal who apparently had publicly suffered from a slight substance abuse problem. Piers told the world that she had enjoyed a wicked cocaine habit that destroyed her nose, which had to be redone. Here, here. Commentary for the modern era.
So we started with JoAnn’s heart-shaped scones and some coffee with a shot of Glenlivet. Cheerio, indeed. We are very much enjoying David Beckham arriving wearing his Office of the British Empire medal pinned to the wrong side of his chest and the wife of the British prime minister showing up with a hair clip instead of a hat, which did not conform to protocol. It’s going to be a good day and it’s not even light yet.
About the time Sir Elton John arrives, looking a little unsteady on his feet I might say, it is time to break out the Champagne. I should reveal at this point that we did not snap photos of each other during the Wedding Party, thereby encouraging a comparison of the royal guests to the members of the Wedding Party, who were not, I will admit, at our most photogenic. However, while the royal guests were stuck sitting in their tiny seats for an hour with nothing to drink or eat, we were sipping Champagne and one of us was slipping outside for a smoke, also not encouraged at Westminster Abbey. As you may be able to tell it is still dark out and we’re already indulging in unfortunate behaviors.
However, we were a little peckish so we decided to serve the tea sandwiches: Blue Moons, cucumber and almond/egg salad. We understand that the guests at the royal reception were expected to eat 15 canapes each, so we decide that would be an appropriate allotment for us as well. By the way, Kate and Will are doing an outstanding job at this moment. The Queen looks as though she might have fallen asleep, but then we realize she is just deeply studying her program.
And then, all of a sudden it seems, it’s over. The royal entourage has arrived at Buckingham Palace, Kate and Will have delivered the royal “first” kiss ( we had hoped for something a little juicier, but no matter) and now poor Piers is recapping for the 275th time that this a new dawn for the monarchy.
“What did we do after Charles and Di’s wedding,” JoAnn asks. “Did I just go home?”
We decide to go to the spa. I am not normally a spa person, but this is a special occasion and I decide to get a facial, which I realize will not relieve the inequities of time that have marched across my face but, again, no matter. After filling out a form that attests to the fact that I have no open wounds or communicative diseases, I am asked by my facialist (if that is a word) to take off my clothes and put on a spa robe. Oh, no. This is precisely why I opted for a facial instead of a massage. So I would not have to take off my clothes. I did and put on the robe and, once in the facial room, realize that the preheated warm bed would not feel nearly as good with clothes on. I am completely a mass of ooze when the facial is over and, inexplicably, purchase $84 worth of beauty products, the purpose of which escapes me.
So, it’s been a good day. Champagne, scones, scotch, tea sandwiches, warm bed, facial and beauty products. Just what I always imagined this special day would be all about. Sharing a second Royal Wedding with a good friend of more than 30 years who did not miss the fact that Kate’s veil was covering her face when she entered Westminster Abbey but mysteriously was pulled back in the next shot. That kind of thing bothers JoAnn. Good girl.