If you partook in the day I hope you all enjoyed yesterday as much as we did.
Bookhound kept saying he was going to mow the grass/ walk the dogs/ do things, but in the end I think, like me, he was wrapped up in the moment and realising that this might actually be the last happy and joyous royal event in our lifetimes. And so the day segued effortlessly from eggs and bacon, to coffee and cake, to lunch whilst joining in the glorious moment that Meghan and Harry's wedding became.
I loved it all...
Seeing all the guests arrive especially Amal Clooney in the 'Colman's Mustard' outfit...
And Victoria Beckham looking as if she'd got a bit muddled and was at a funeral...
The Queen in that subtle blend of suffragette colours..
Prince Philip sans walking aid just six weeks after a hip replacement...
Those first glimpses of THE dress and the gossamer veil that poured itself down the steps...
The pageboy's toothless grin of utter excitement in the doorway...
Doria Ragland, mother of the bride, looking composed and quietly proud...
Prince Charles taking the bride's arm as she entered the Quire...
That moment when Harry lifted the veil and arranged it so neatly...
The choir's rendition of the John Rutter blessing after the vows...
The Kingdom Gospel Choir singing Stand by Me under the guidance of the inimitable Karen Gibson and a huge helping of The Almighty. It was stunning....
Bishop Curry's passionate and heartfelt sermon which took everyone by surprise but was all the better for that...
The sublime cello-playing of Sheku Kanneh-Mason...
Zara Tindall beyond 8/12 pregnant and me worrying that she might go into labour...
The naughty horse that frisked and frolicked its way through the whole procession...
The pageant and ceremony and the Household Cavalry...
The gazillions of people lining the streets proving that for every naysayer there are legions who adore it all...
Oh I could go on and on. It was a day the Nation needed, the sun shone and to top it all a beautiful poem. The Long Walk, from the Poet Laureate Carol Ann Duffy. A poem so laden with significance it brought tears to my eyes, because which of us wasn't struck by the absence; the one person missing from the day perhaps in body, but whose presence seemed very much there in spirit.
It should be private, the long walk
on bereavement’s hard stones;
and when people wave, their hands
should not be mobile phones,
nor their faces lenses;
so your heart dressed in its uniform.
On. Then one blessed step
and the long walk ended
where love had always been aimed,
her arrows of sweet flowers gifting
the air among bells- yes, they all looked-
and saying your name.
Were you there too...
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