Firstly, who really gives a shit?
Secondly, I enjoy checking in on the zeitgeist. Here goes.
OK, It was kinda nice to get the early phone call from mum who yelled at us to "get up and do your duty, the sodding future sodding king is getting bloody well married"
I fumbled for a TV station for about 10 seconds and went back to bed. Then, a little while later I got online and attempted to watch ridiculously fuzzy images from the BBC. Then tuned into to the BBC radio and listened while I loaded the dishwasher. That's the way a Royal wedding should be handled, loading the dishy on a Saturday morning. My neice called. She's 6 and was busy watching 'The Incredibles' for the guzillioneth time. She couldn't care less about a fairy tale wedding of two old folk. She wanted to talk to us about chickens and piano lessons.
What always gets me about Royal events are the vast numbers of utter lunatics who come out of the woodwork. Check out any of the main UK news websites, Guardianunlimited, BBCi etc. They all have photo galleries. Each gallery has obligatory shots of smiling rich kids but also the loonies. The old lady with the 'Diana forever' protest banner, the grinning idiot who had slept on the streets of Windsor to get a good view.
It's all just zeitgiest.
Weasel summed it up, the expat thing is a bit tricky, what makes one proud of one's 'home' ? For me it's a confusing bunch of stuff ranging from it's obsession with sport to it's cultural output, landscape, weather, Health service, attitude, I could go on. What it certainly is not, is the Royal Family and the nutters and mentalists who sleep on the streets of Windsor to watch over two old dears getting hitched.
5 comments:
Where were the street parties and the cock-er-nee knee's ups? Why not move it to a Monday so everyone could bunk off? Sometimes our royals act a bit too Norwegian.
Too true, I'd have a lot more support/sympathy for them if they gave us the odd day off. The day they buried Diana on a Saturday was the day i turned republican.
i loved the thing camilla wore in her hair. it was rather windy so she kept fussing with it on the chance it would blow away.
Madam, that "thing" you describe was a wee Hebridean islander, selected to ride on the Duchess or Prunewall's head (or "heed" as the Hebridean's say) to represent the fealty of the outer Scottish islands (excluding Ronaldsay).
i don't understand your version of english.
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