The wonderings, ponderings and other 'ings' of me. Lifestyle, review, news and opinion posts. Chic with a hint of sarcasm... hopefully!

Wednesday 17 November 2010

But will there ever be a Princess Chelsea?

In a blatent attempt to jump on the Royal Wedding Bandwagon and as I am unable to blog on the actual day (I've been advised its not the done thing to tap away on a blackberry whilst the bride says her vows, seems old Westminster is awfully echoy!) I'm re-publishing the engagement post. If I get two mins in the weekend I'll do a report afterwards.

If you want your Royal Wedding Name, take your Grandmother's first name then double-barrel it with the name of your first pet and the street you grew up on.

TTFN





I’ve never really considered myself a royalist or particularly patriotic, however the news of Wills and Kate’s engagement has definitely put a smile on my face. Maybe it’s because they seem a bit more normal that the rest of them or that at last our Royal Family will have some fresh blood so the next generation wont all look like horses with wigs on. Possibly it's because I’ve always been a wedding-head and will go with any excuse to witter on about one (that looks the most likely now that I see it written down), whatever the reason K & W seem to be the topic of the week. Obviously nasty stuff like oil spills, wars and the fact that the world’s economy is pretty much up the shitter can be swept a side for a week or so while we focus on the more important issues of who she’ll wear on the day in question.


Having never really watched the royals before, their reactions to the news has been rather entertaining. Camilla described it as ‘wicked’ and even did a little gangster style finger flick before she popped a cap in a fotog’s ass (NB: that last bit didn’t really happen). Charles’ comment that ‘they had been practicing for long enough’ was quite telling as well. Yes Charlie-boy, in comparison to the 28 days you spent getting to know your future wife before you popped the question it does seem like a remarkably long time. Though now I think about it he does have a bit of a point there. After 9 years of not proposing, how Wills didn’t wake up with the pointy end of a carving knife in his face more than once is beyond me. No matter, he did finally man-up and at least they really do love each other (from what I've seen anyway) so fingers, toes and any other extremities you have left crossed they might actually make it.


My only bone would be while it’s all very sentimental that Willy gave his betrothed Di’s old engagement ring so that his mum could be there with them, personally I think it smacks of lethargy. When you propose, you go out and buy a ring you lazy bugger, you don’t just grab the first one that you see in a family jewellery box! Had he given me the ring his mother wore, that symbolised probably one of the most highly documented and rubbish marriages in the world I would have said, you’re alright thanks, I’ll stick to a diamond solitaire.


There’s no date yet but at least when it does happen we, the subjects, get an extra day’s holiday so we can celebrate properly (I have been assured this is true so if it doesn’t occur I’ll give you the address of my big sister so you can take it up with her). However this too slightly concerns me; does that mean that we, the mugs who are constantly taxed up to the eyeballs and then a bit more for good measure, end up paying for the whole thing? If so I say we should all don our biggest and best hat, rock on up to the palace and demand a dance with Harry (we all know he’s the more interesting one anyway!)


So I’ll be waiting with bated breath for my invite (am sure after they see this I’ll be top of the list) and I already know what to buy them. Sure they may well have land, a title, and all the trappings of a lavish lifestyle but I bet they don’t have this?


This blog is actually dedicated to my 2 sets of friends that are getting married next month, Congratulations Nick and Debs and Mart and Becks, looking forward to getting bladdered at both of your special days!






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