It’s been everywhere this week - talk of the ‘big do’ when Prince William finally marries his commoner girlfriend Kate Middleton.
Our TV has been filled with documentaries and news items. Our newspapers have been filled with articles on everything from who else is getting married today to what dress Kate will wear. (There has been an inordinate number of articles published brandishing ‘Exclusive’ banners declaring that they have an idea, possibly, of what Kate’s dress just might, maybe, look like without actually knowing a damn thing about any of it.) Several fairly dodgy songs have been written.
A plethora of tat has been released with a royal wedding theme. On Sunday I even saw some royal wedding dummies on sale, with teeny Union Jacks brandished across them declaring either Prince or Princess depending on the gender of your little royalist.
T-shirts have sprung up for aspiring little girls declaring they are princesses in waiting. Tea towel production is overload. A clatter of tacky embellished china is on sale right now not to mention the replica royal wedding toys.
The world, it seems, has gone a little bit mad for Big Willy (as Kate apparantly lovingly calls him) and Waity Katie (as is her nickname).
And while the tat mongers have me thinking the world has lost their sanity, there is a part of me which is, ultimately, very interested in the whole shebang.
I’d like to pretend I was above it all. I’d like to pretend that secretly the whole thing disgusts me from the money spent, to the tacky memorabilia to the gradiose pomp and ceremony of a British royal’s wedding.
But at heart, this much is true. I’m a girly girl who likes to believe in happy endings and who likes to see princesses wearing very fancy gowns and tiaras. I like to believe in fairytales. I’m aware that in many people’s eyes this makes me a sad case. I’m also aware that boy meets girl at university and the pair fall in love after she wears a see through dress is not exactly the most exciting fairytale in the world - but I’ll enjoy it for what it is.
I’ll push my reservations aside and employ my wilful suspension of disbelief - and get caught up in the romance of the day.
I’ll not worry about whether or not their forever after really is a forever after. I’ll try not to think of the ridiculous cost of it.
I’ll not even worry that maybe we people in certain parts of this country are supposed to be opposed, in principle, to anything remotely related to the British monarchy.
I’ll just concentrate on the spectacle of it all and watch it with the same fascination as I would a wedding unfolding on my street or in the nearest chapel.
I’ll judge whether or not her dress suits her. Is her hair nice? Should she have chosen a different veil or head dress? The bridesmaid dresses will be scrutinised to within an inch of their lives.
I’ll look to see what the mother of the bride is wearing, as well as the mother of the groom.
I’ll try and see if Wills looks nervous as he watches his bride walk towards him. Will Kate cry? (I’m betting she won’t. Commoner or not, a certain level of decorum will have to be observed).
I’ll watch and see if they stumble over their vows.
Will Camilla dab at her eyes with a hankie? Will they make mention of Diana and her untimely death?
Will they snog when they are pronounced husband and wife (or prince and princess)? Or will there be a refined peck on the cheek?
Nosiness will be have me watching to see them wave from the balcony at Buckingham Palace just to gauge whether or not they look really happy.
I’ll be secretly gutted the cameras won’t follow them on to the reception. I’d quite to see if anyone smuggles in a wee quarter bottle in their handbag.
Will anyone ask for chips instead of mashed potatoes and shame themselves?
It would nice to see one of the lesser known royals get scuttered and try and distract attention from the happy couple by sobbing into the wedding cake - or indeed it would be nice to what the first dance will be. (‘The Power of Love’ or ‘Flying Without Wings’ perhaps?)
Will they dance uproariously to ‘Sweet Caroline’ punching the air and shouting “so good, so good, so good” at the appropriate times?
Or will it all be terribly, terribly refined? I imagine, with a certain disappointment, that it will be.
There will be no ‘Rock the Boat’ with the Queen falling over herself and trying to protect her modesty. Sadly.
But maybe, there will be a happy ending. Maybe it will give us all a distraction from the seemingly endless bad news doing the rounds at the moment?
Maybe we will get to ogle at a pretty dress, and marvel at the spectacle of it and, if we are that way inclined, buy some wedding related tat.
I’m after a Big Willy teatowel myself.