| Tuesday, April 12, 2005 |
| Blogging the Royal Wedding |
As promised, our friends Campbell and his partner, Colin were among the select few to attend the Royal Wedding on Saturday in person. I was lucky enough to go to Windsor Castle back in November and remember the grandeur of both St. George's Chapel and the Hall. They are very impressive indeed. So, without further ado - here's is Campbell's account of the event.
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Colin and I got to Windsor about 11.45, all gussied up in our morning coats, we had decided top hats were just de trop. I am happy to report that, having given me a very hard time about spending £30 more on the hire of my suit than him, Colin rumpily admitted that I looked much smarter than he did. I already knew this but, in the interests of harmony, condescended to be gracious about it.
It was a beautiful day, breezy with white clouds in a bright blue sky, warm in the sunshine but definately nippy in the shadows. The Royal Standard was flying above the Round Tower and Her Maj was obviously pushing the boat out, as it was the biggest flag I'd ever seen - it looked about the size of a tennis court. Very grand however; all that heraldic blue and red and gold floating against the sky. We walked up the hill from the Eton bridge trying to look casual but just loving the fact that everyone we passed knew exactly where we were going; you can get a terrible crick in your neck you know: trying to appear nonchalant and suave!
Colin had booked lunch in a hotel right opposite the Guildhall but in the end we saw almost nothing of the arrival and departure as the front rows of the crowd were all press photographers perched on ladders. Colin, clocking in at 6'4" was a big hit with little old ladies who were queuing up to hand him their cameras so he could get the souvenir snap they had set their hearts on. It will surprise no one to know that the crowd was entrirely friendly apart from one lone loon holding up a placard ranting on about aldultery and the Wrath of God; well her, and Peter Tatchell.
Peter has become a British institution, an agressive Gay Libber, he has invaded the pulpit at Canterbury while the Archbisop was preaching, has tried, twice, to effect a citizen's arrest on Robert Mugabe and no major public event can consider itself successful unless Peter is there. This time round he was carrying a poster that said 'Charles and Camilla Can Marry Twice. Gays Can't Even Marry Once' No one paid him any mind at all apart from one chap about 3/4 feet from me and on the front row of the crowd who started yelling abuse at him - up strolls a policeman, "Now now sir, that's enough of that. It's a lovely day and we're all here to enjoy ourselves, even Mr Tatchell" The crowd laughed and our token homophobe looked very silly.
We had to be in our seats for 2pm for a 2.30 kick off so I had plenty of time to enjoy the architecture of the Chapel. If you have never seen it St George's is one of the great Gothic buildings of England. With a stupendous fan vault it has been, in effect, the family chapel of every English monarch since Edward IV as well as being the home of the Order of the Garter which is the UK's absolutely grandest honour possible. To become a Garter knight you have to come from a very grand family, do something really remarkable, or be a retired Prime Minister or be a visiting Head of State whom we REALLY want to butter up.
So anyway what have we got?: we have a very nice lunch, sun through stained glass, golden stone, the smell of lilies,soothing music played by a fine string orchestra and thirty minutes to wait before anything happened. I am bruised in the ribs where Colin had to keep nudging me to keep awake.
2.30 came round and bang on cue the Queen and Prince Philip appear in a side aisle, pass through the choir screen, followed about three minutes later by the Prince and the Duchess. It set the tone for the service that instead of arriving to some great organ voluntary or fanfare both couples came in to soft gentle music - Grieg and then Albinoni. The mood picked up sharply with the processional hymn which was ' Immortal Invisble'. This is an old old favourite, and anyone who went to church as a child has probably sung it a hundred times. The same went for the other two hymns 'Love Divine All Loves Excelling' and 'Praise My Soul The King of Heaven'. The effect of choosing such familiar hymns meant that the congregation was really able to let rip, enjoying a singalong and a wallow in a bit of nostalgia; all very pleasant.
The service went along its own sweet way - a reading from Wordsworth, the Credo very beautifully sung in a Russian Orthodox version and the much discussed Confession of Sin. A lot of crap has been talked about how 'humiliating' this was for them both. This was put about either from malice or pig ignorance or possibly both as the Confiteor is a standard part of most church services and is recited by the entire congregation.
A reading from Wordsworth, the blessing and then Charles and Camilla walked down the length of the church out through the West Door and on to the terrace at the top of the stairs. I know that this will pay merry hell with my status as Chief Cynic in Residence to the Follicly Challenged of Reservoir Hill but I have to say she looked smashing and he looked very very happy indeed. So there! I have been saying it for years but she is a very attractive woman, funny, down to earth with a good, if old-fashioned, figure and great legs. Diana was great fun but always there was the sense of risk, Camilla is relaxing and great at putting you at your ease.
The guests then walked up to the Castle for the party. The main event was in St George's Hall, recently reopend after the fire and all I can say is that it was a very nice party indeed. Excellent drink and lots of it nice food and lots of that too and lots of people that Colin and I knew from the charity world plus C's celebrity mates like Joanna Lumley and Stephen Fry. The silliest part of the whole afternoon was nipping over to a window for a smoke only to find myself cheek by jowl with the King and Queen of Greece. I mean what do you say ?? I was inspired and I offer the following remark to all of you who may, one day, find themselves in a similar position "Oh hello! Isn't this a lovely party!" Pretty damn witty stuff eh?
So the afternoon passed; drink, food, ciggies and constantly saying to oneself "My word that guy looks just like x. Oh lord it IS x " I doubt many of the names will mean much to Baltimoreans but as well as Lumley and Fry my score included Valentino, Kenneth Branagh, David Furnish, Tony Blair, The A/bish of Canterbury, a raft of royals including Norway and the Netherlands, and even a Duchess (but not that one). This is not to say that I knew any of these people it was just that it was the kind of party where everybody was talking to everybody, so that you'd be prattling away to a pretty woman in a smart hat and suddenly you'd think "Blimey I am talking to the Crown Princess of Norway!"
After the speeches we all went outside to watch them being piped out of the Castel on the way to Scotland. It was this point I got my best look at the William and Harry - if you can think of anything prettier than two tall handsome boys in morning suits then I'd like to know what it is; and Harry is much much more sexy than his brother . They were obviously having a great time so any rumours about being anti the marriage seem truly scotched.
And that was that, tired, but happy, we wended our way back to real life; stopping only at the Berkeley Hotel for a couple of martinis.
OK Linda, that is just about the best I can do!! |
posted by Broadsheet @ 10:57 AM   |
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| 6 Editorial Opinions: |
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Thanks sweetie! And I especially liked the new term: "Chief Cynic in Residence to the Follicly Challenged of Reservoir Hill." We'll just call him CCR FCRH, or perhaps just 'cranky fucker' for short.
And what? No sight of Tom Ford this go around?
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Yes; Cranky Fucker has a certain ring to it and no, no Tom Ford but there was Prince Harry!
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Oh, that was lovely. Definite proof that SOMEONE needs his own web log. Also, I quite agree about Harry and I don't even like younger men.
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I agree with you that Camilla is a very handsome man. Also, you are a bastard.
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jwer: and you, sir, are no gentleman!
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Campbell: this is true, but whoever said I was?
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Thanks sweetie! And I especially liked the new term: "Chief Cynic in Residence to the Follicly Challenged of Reservoir Hill." We'll just call him CCR FCRH, or perhaps just 'cranky fucker' for short.
And what? No sight of Tom Ford this go around?