Pomp, circumstance and tabloids as Harry weds Meghan
Well, it’s the big event this weekend, the top draw on the social calendar. Not since Prince Chuck married Diana Spencer has there been such a hullabaloo in Great Britain. Of course there was the sequel when Prince Willy married Kate and became the first member of the royal family in direct line to the throne to wed a commoner but this one beats them all.
On Saturday Will’s younger brother Harry will marry not only a commoner but, following in his great-great uncle’s footsteps, a divorcée. On top of that the bride-to-be is of mixed race and by mixed we don’t mean a combination of Angel, Saxon and Jute. It seems that the Windsors have at last been dragged, only slightly kicking and screaming, into the 21st century.
Frankly, I don’t see what the fuss is all about. Harry seems a nice chap with his curly, ginger hair and impish grin. He’s also probably brave, having given up a life of ribbon cutting to serve a couple tours of duty in Afghanistan but he’s just not that important. Yes, he’s in direct line to the throne but in order to actually wear the crown there would have to be an unexpected spate of six deaths in the family including the present Queen, the Prince of Wales, his brother William and all of Will’s children.
The latest prospective member of the “family firm,” one Meghan Markle does have the cachet of being a former television star and having had to work for a living. She’s also what the boys at the pub call a “looker” and by all accounts a pleasant, generous soul. But to create a worldwide sea of adoration and expectation is a bit over the top.
Just the same, there will apparently be millions of awe-struck royal watchers around the world leaping out of their beds at 4:00 a.m. to follow the proceedings live from St. George’s Chapel at Windsor Castle. The last time I was up at 4:00 a.m. in a celebratory mood I was on my way to bed. At least Harry and Meg are going low key having forgone nuptials at Westminster Abbey in favour of St. George’s which is much less ostentatious with seating for a mere 800.
Rumours concerning the guest list have been flying thick and fast. Politicians are out. No Obama, no Trudeau, no heads of state. This makes perfect sense. If you ask Obama you’d have to ask Trump or he’s likely to sulk and stop all flights to and from Great Britain and slap an import tax on British wool. Just getting the Royal Family together will fill the front half of the chapel. After the Queen there are 18 in direct line to the throne. Then there’s Prince Phillip, a handful of Dukes, Duchesses Earls and assorted lordlings all related to the Queen through her father. And if the list includes other European royals there will have to be a D-day style airlift to get them all to the event.
Meanwhile, the British press is having a field day. Despite pleas from the soon-tobe-wed couple, members of the media have been leaping on each and every possible embarrassing detail, filling the tabloids, radio waves and television news with any bit of salacious gossip that they can dig up. The first casualty was Meghan’s father. Scheduled to give the bride away he was
cautioned to stay out of the lime light. Meanwhile, Meghan’s half sister apparently talked dad into having some photos taken. From there it has become a she-saidhe-said-they said argument which the media has turned into a major kerfuffle and caused dad to say he won’t be there.
Essentially, as with so much of what the British ruling class does, it has become a battle royal between those who see the Windsors as fairy tale characters to be loved, envied and emulated
and those who see them as a collection of anachronistic rich people who owe their position to nothing more than heredity. Take away the titles, the pomp, the polo ponies and all the bowing and scraping and what’s left?
I suggest everyone in the British Commonwealth – she is our Queen too – should get a vote for the next monarch. Personally I’d opt for the Queen’s granddaughter, Zara Tindall. Think of it, Queen Zara! How neat would that be?