So, it seems we’ll have a royal wedding to look forward to next year. For what it’s worth, I approve. The couple has had a long time to get to know one another, presumptive sexual contact and enough mileage in the rear view that there will be no ugly surprises, or nothing they can’t handle.
Prince William seems to have been both well-raised by his parents and enough of his own person to learn from their mistakes. And his grandparents were obviously chastened enough by the disaster of Charles and Diana to finally revise the job description for the future queen. A royal or aristocratic bloodline is no longer required, nor is virginity. It’s a new century, your majesty. Women are different. And in a good way. It still astounds me that in 1980, Lady Diana Spencer was required to undergo a gynecological examination to ascertain her, er, soundness.
Obviously no one can know precisely what grammy told No. 2 as he set about making his choice, but as I said, he seems to have learned well. Some people say there are two kinds of women in the world, first wives and second wives, Dianas and Camillas. I was never much of a Diana fan, so forgive me, but I think he’s found a Camilla, with enough of Diana’s virtues to satisfy everyone. Which is to say, she will look good in a dress, produce an heir and a spare and not trail a string of caddish boyfriends who will loosen their tongues to the tabs. I like the way she wears her hair long and loose and a little messy, is beautiful in an entirely approachable way and doesn’t seem to make too much of a fuss over anything. In this, she is very much an English girl, and if she isn’t a blueblood, well, pfft. You see what shopping in the luxury section got his father. Teach her to ride and shoot and no one will be able to tell the difference in a decade.
This paragraph from the NYT story made me chuckle:
The romance has had its setbacks. The pair split for several months in 2007, amid speculation (always denied) that the royal family was dismayed by the lower status of Miss Middleton’s family and that Mrs. Middleton had chewed gum and used un-aristocratic words like “toilet” and “pardon” in front of Queen Elizabeth, William’s grandmother.
I thought all Brits said “toilet.” In fact, I thought calling a spade a spade, and a toilet a toilet, was a hallmark of the British upper classes. Euphemism, especially about bodily functions, is a middle-class trait. Excuse me, but can you direct me to the powder room?
So, bloggage? Not very much:
Lisa Murkowski, throwin’ down with the mean girl.
Via one of my Facebook pals, the Westboro Baptist Church meets the Winter’s Bone demographic. Guess who won?
A website I’d fallen away from, and am now back in love with — Cute Overload. I think “cute” is one of those very current concepts, like “soft,” which Hank explores at one lengthy paragraph’s length in “Tinsel” (which by the way is out in paperback, with an excellent cover, which you should stuff into stockings up and down your gift list). We swing between extremes in so many things in our discourse; you’re red or blue, the president is a saint or a Marxist, people you’ve never met read something you wrote and send you an e-mail informing you you’re a shithead who should die in a fire. And yet we can join our hands at the table of brotherhood over LOLcats and pictures of hamsters. Go figure. Crazy world.
And with that, I have to skedaddle. Much work to do today, plus I have to make a birthday cake. It’s November 16, the day we honor the arrivals of Alan, Kate, Adrianne from our peanut gallery and Alan’s late elementary classmate, Elvis Whitehead. So I’m off to buy chocolate.
Have a great day, all.