I hadn’t intended on writing about the Royal wedding tomorrow.

In fact, I had all but promised myself that I wouldn’t.  For one thing, there has been so much buzz about the whole thing that I am bored to tears of it already, and for another…well…the Royal family…meh.

That isn’t to say that I won’t be keen for just a little peek of her dress and princess bling though, of course. But I have a feeling that a peek will be sufficient to cure my curiosity and I will be able to move swiftly on with my own menial existence without a second thought for theirs.  Well, until their happy, smiling faces grace my doormat the following morning from the front page of the newspaper.

I understand that it is a significant turning point in history.  Good ol’ Wills, has not only shown himself to be up-with-the-times by being a Royal to marry for love (shock, horror) but is committing himself to a ‘commoner.’ The gorgeous  Kate, daughter of millionaire parents,  with a degree in Arts History from the prestigious University of St Andrews hardly fits the image of horny, scullery maid that the term conjures in my mind.  (But that maybe just the result of years of reading historical fiction…or erotic fiction!  Yeah, you got me!)

I suspect that it is a very obvious attempt to convince the masses of how the Royal family has progressed since the scandalous wedding of Kind Edward and Mrs Simpson back in 1936.  In a world that has gone crazy with political-correctness, ‘commoner,’  seems like an interesting and ouddated word to use.  In comparison to the majority of those which the Windsor’s consider to be commoners, many would consider Kate Middleton to be up there amongst the hoity-toity, socially and financially gifted.  Not a ‘commoner’ at all, in fact!

But regardless, of her social standing, educational background, and the fact that she has managed an almost unheard of de-facto relationship with the future Kind of England (I still live in not-so-secret hope that we can skip his father), my thoughts are with her on the eve of her wedding day.

Rewind back (almost) ten years to my wedding day.  After a two year relationship with my beloved Hubbster, I had spent the nine months leading up to my wedding day in Melbourne.  It was a time of great emotional upheaval, home sickness and for the first time in my life I was not surrounded by a tight and easy network of friends.  Sure, I spoke the same language but I hadn’t been expecting the huge cultural difference.  In a matter of months I went from being the confident, life and soul of the party, to feeling very self conscious and even shy.  It wasn’t much fun feeling like the new kid on the block, feeling like all eyes, ears and judgements were on you.

If that is how I felt on an average Saturday night at the pub (pre-drinks, that is), you can imagine how nervous I felt on my own wedding day.  With only about twenty of the seventy-odd guests, being either my family from the UK, or friends that Hubbster and I had gathered on our travels from scattered locations around the globe, I was as nervous as hell.  Including the celebrant and camera man, (who was possibly blind judging by the quality of his photography, there were one hundred and fifty six eyeballs all fixed on me ~ eeek.

Now, multiply my seventy odd guests by about twenty-seven billion (yes, I just made that up) and I am feeling just a little empathy for Kate.  For those of you who ever worried about waking up with a huge zit, tripping on your train, falling off your stiletto heels on your walk down the aisle, or getting ridiculously drunk, (on love and champagne), and making a goose of yourself in front of everyone must surely feel just a little bit of empathy for Kate’s situation.  Whatever the true figure may be, one thing is for certain, Kate will have a hell of lot of eyeballs on her.

It’s embarrassing (and romantic too of course as long as no one else is watching) seeing our homemade wedding video that one of our guests kindly gave us.  Oh the horror to have EVERYBODY in the WORLD watching, as your nerves have you almost galloping up the aisle, reciting vows with a wobbly chin as you try not to burst into tears, and subtly sniffing at your armpits to make sure that your nerves haven’t resulted in some freakish  hyper-hydrosis-incident, (just me huh?)

Poor Kate.  Don’t worry, I shall soon retract this sentiment, when I see her, post-ceremony, post-wedding, relaxing in the lap of luxury (and no doubt on my postage stamp), but for now…let’s not spoil the sentiment, eh?)

If I could offer poor, dear Kate, just one word of advice, from my own personal experience, I would probably advise her against swigging red wine straight from the bottle towards the end of the evening.  Although, it may look as though everyone else is having a great time and won’t notice, mark my words, your mother-in-law will have her unfaltering eye on you.  (Particularly if she spent months on end making your dress herself…though I can’t really see Queen Elizabeth II sitting in her chair beside the fire sewing on some last minute pearls this evening somehow). 

Trust me, I know.  No amount of innocent looks or bare-faced denial will remove the red wine stains from a white wedding dress.  Thankfully though, two visits to a dry cleaners will!

Did you, or someone you know, embarrass themselves on their wedding day?

Image: ahmet guler / FreeDigitalPhotos.net