I got up with my mother and my daughters to watch the Royal Wedding this morning, and I loved every bit of it, with the exception of some hats that belonged in Dr. Seuss book illustrations rather than on the heads of mature adults. Mom brought some much more reasonable “fascinators” for the granddaughters:
My own Dearly Beloved thinks I’m off my nut to give up good sleep for such a thing. I’m no “Royal Watcher” but a huge State Wedding in the nation of our cultural cousins is exciting! And how could I possibly miss out on an opportunity to see Westminster Abbey displayed in all its wonder?
And the final reason I refuse to acknowledge any mockery from friend or near kin is this:
When else does one have a legitimate reason to eat trifle for breakfast? I ate fruit for this, people. If that doesn’t demonstrate cheerful hopes for the future of the British Monarchy, I don’t know what would.