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I'm mid thirties, two smallish children, one delightful husband, one car and one mortgage kinda lady. We left the big smoke some time ago and live in one of the most charming places in England.

Sunday, 1 May 2011

Loving being British.

If asked I would never describe myself as particularly patriotic but something strange and slightly inexplicable happened on Friday 29th April...I felt really proud, really smug...to be British.
If completely honest, I've still got a little glow about it 72 hours later.

The last Royal wedding in July 1981 we went to my Grandmothers, as we didn't have a TV. I spent the whole day feeling very jealous that no one had asked me to be a bridesmaid. This time round I was a little jealous of the Middleton Mum and Dad, for being so strong, so collected and so stylish, surely I'm not the only mother of girls who dreams of them living out their Princess fantasies. But I couldn't summon the same amount of envy for the Middletons as I had for Clementine Hambro ( the youngest of Charles + Di's bridesmaids).

I watched this wedding at home with family and best friend, maybe wearing my own wedding dress and veil was a little much, but it was definitely the best choice at the Street party. This was no ordinary street party it had a programme, a running order that started at 10am and finished at 11pm and I'm told a photographer from a national newspaper. I could almost emphasise with the Duchess of Cambridge.

Their was food, flag weaving, games, face painting, pageants, bands, cakes, it was brilliant and it all went without a hitch much like the Middletons day. But I wonder if behind the scenes for William and Kate they had a few of the issues that the Street party organising committee had. These were another reason to be proud to be British.

The committee was led, not always by group consent by 'Mr + Mrs Lived here for ages,  know everything and everyone. ' Committee Lieutenants included new residents  ( those who had lived more than 5 years but less than a decade). One couple, who were very dedicated lieutenants, made the mistake of booking a holiday, two weeks before the party returning  2 days beforehand. In their absence they found themselves demoted from the role as official ticket sellers. They complained to  'Mr + Mrs Lived here for ages,  know everything and everyone' everyone apologised, apparently a 'terrible misunderstanding'.

Good lieutenant wife then stayed up till 3am the night before baking and icing individual cup cakes for the party, for each table. She then, naturally enough distributed them post lunch, but crucially 1 hour before the advertised VIntage Tea. During the party if you looked closely for 5 mins at 3pm you saw two very well dressed ladies have a tug of war with a silver tray of freshly baked cakes, arguing about when they went on display.

True to form by 11pm everyone had drunk enough that everyone was tearful about this being the best street to live in. We'd witnessed dodgy dancing from the man at number 16, a impromptu bit of Britney from the Dad at number 27 and a very drunken snoring from the always so posh lady at number 6.

Was the street party more traditional than Williams and Catherine's day?

1 comment:

  1. I have British fever too! I am in the middle of filling out forms to claim my British passport (my mum's English) after the excitement of the wedding. I can see why you are so proud to be English!

    Best wishes and happy day,
    Natasha.

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