Posted by Tania Kindersley.
Yesterday was the worst day. I don't know why. It just was.
The Younger Niece comes home. She says, plaintively, to my sister: 'Can we have a cheerful day?'.
So we are damn well going to have a cheerful day. We are British, dammit, we have a stiff upper lip.
We are going to watch the Royal Wedding. I know it is fashionable to sneer at the whole thing. Thing is: sneering is easy. Anyone can sneer. It takes no imagination. I watched the news last night and there were thousands of Ordinary Decent Britons camped out on the Mall. They were all so happy. Some ladies from Portsmouth were singing Roll Out the Barrel. I wanted to kiss them. I love the British, I don't care. Roll Out the Barrel? I'm damn well not sneering at that.
One young boy, about ten, said, very seriously, to the BBC: 'I've never seen so many people so, so…' He stopped, searching for the right word. 'Cheerful,' he said. 'Not in my whole life.'
That's the British way. Not ecstatic or crazed with exhuberance, but cheerful. That was the Niece's word too. That's what we'll do.
All the great-nephews and nieces are here. There are going to be cupcakes. The sun is shining in Scotland. You can't ask more than that.
For me, I am most excited about the horses of the Household Cavalry. Dresses are all very well, but give me a good army horse any day, groomed to within an inch of its life.
In the spirit of the thing, here is a good old Union flag, for dear old Blighty and all who sail in her: