A date with Sarah-Kate; Kate’s home truths

A fairy­tale princess and a play ful prince? How per­fect

Woman’s Day (NZ) - - What a Week! - A date with Sarah-Kate

Oh, there was just so much to love about Pippa Mid­dle­ton’s wed­ding to James Matthews, wasn’t there? Her dress! I think it’s prob­a­bly my favourite of all the celebrity wed­ding dresses. So sim­ple yet chic, and cling­ing per­fectly to her tiny wee body to per­fectly show­case her as­ton­ish­ingly toned arms and minis­cule waist.

Were I of the same pro­por­tions (alas, even at age six, I fear I took up more space), that dress is ex­actly what I would wear, not just on my wed­ding day but ev­ery day. And night. Truly, a thing of great iconic style and beauty.

But noth­ing was more beau­ti­ful on the day, in my opin­ion, than Pippa’s smile. She is a gor­geous wo­man any­way – those Mid­dle­ton genes? Shut up! But her face was ra­di­ant, her hap­pi­ness could be seen from space and old Jimmy looked right chuffed too.

I wish the happy cou­ple all the joy and con­tent­ment in the world, and don’t be­grudge them a sin­gle pearl of caviar nor a drop of cham­pagne. Who wouldn’t have Roger Fed­erer play­ing ping pong with their wed­ding guests if they could man­age it?

But my favourite mo­ment in all the pro­ceed­ings had noth­ing to do with the $1.5 mil­lion wed­ding, and in­deed just goes to show that all the wealth and priv­i­lege in the world can’t pro­tect one from the im­pulses of com­mon or gar­den hu­man na­ture.

I’m talk­ing about the pic­ture of the Duchess of Cam­bridge giv­ing Prince Ge­orge a right old flea in his ear be­hind a tree for be­ing naughty in church. I re­ceived quite a few of those fleas my­self in my time.

Church takes quite a long time and is quite bor­ing when you’re not quite four. And I doubt there’s a par­ent among us who hasn’t pri­vately thought at some solemn oc­ca­sion or other over a rug rat’s re­peated hi­jinks, “The mo­ment I get that lit­tle oik out­side, I’m go­ing to throt­tle him.”

Kate, of course, is not al­lowed to throt­tle the heir to the throne, but I could see in her face the pain of hav­ing her lit­tle prince be­have in a way she feared, per­haps, would de­tract from her sis­ter’s nup­tials.

Part of me is on Ge­orge’s side. Those gold knicker­bock­ers will haunt him well past his 21st and in­deed quite likely into the best man’s speech at his own wed­ding. And it didn’t help that all the other page boys and brides­maids, some of whom looked young enough still to be in nap­pies, were quite so an­gelic.

But how I loved the photo of Princess Char­lotte look­ing rather evil and glee­ful as her big brother re­ceived his dress­ing-down from his stressed-out mum. I’m sure it was just a co­in­ci­dence, and she was pos­si­bly think­ing of kit­tens and lol­lipops.

Yet it does tickle my fancy that the royal off­spring have about them a touch of a rainy-Satur­day-af­ter­noonat-the-mall. For your next su­per­mar­ket visit with the chil­dren, a fas­ci­na­tor might be in or­der?

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