Some Wedding Or Other

 I watched the bit where they were all turning up to the Abbey: various hereditary monarchs from places like Tonga, Monaco and Lichtenstein, Prince Charles's old girlfriends in scene-stealing hats, Elton John and David Furnish.  Formerly I would have stayed to mock, but I'm getting too old to play the urchin; I have my own dignity to consider- so I went and cleaned the toilet instead.

Then I had a shower. Then I clipped the hedge.

They're still at it. I'm back in the room with the TV because that's where the computer is. The archbishop has just blessed the congregation and the choir has gone AAAAaaaaaAAAAaaaagh-men. Now there are trumpets. And now it's the national anthem. Apparently Prince Charles, who likes that sort of thing, has imported a lot of Parry into the service.

 

Odd wedding- one at which the groom's old dad gets to pick the music.! But I'm starting to do just what I said I wouldn't. Shut up, Grist!

Not Saturday

I keep having to remind myself  today isn't Saturday- only pretending to be.

For a couple of years after they  gated the alleyway at the back of the house nobody used it. Now- with all this lovely spring weather- there are gangs of very small children running up and down it all day long. They are loud, but their mothers are louder.  I met a gang of them today. "Who are you?" one of them asked.  I told him and asked back. They ran through a string of names, then repeated it- only this time assigning them differently- so that Wainwright was now Jack and Jack was  Peter and Peter was Wainwright,

Talking about kids, did you notice the very small and very grumpy bridesmaid on the balcony of Buckingham Palace who covered her ears when the WWII aeroplanes flew over ?