I felt slightly unwanted, a little bit of a nuisance but, more importantly, like I’d managed to wrangle my way into some kind of secret club. A bit like Fight Club, only without the fighting and on the condition that I play waiter. But that didn’t matter. I was IN.
I hadn’t spent a full year on earth when Charles and Diana married in 1981. I feel I missed out on that one. William and Kate seem like a nice enough couple. There’s a bit of a buzz in the country. I enjoy an event. I’ll admit it…
I want to watch the royal wedding on Friday.
I’m not sure if it’s something to be embarrassed about, being a red-blooded man and all (although the fact I’ll be spending the day in a room full of wedding-obsessed women probably is) and the fact that food and booze is involved has no bearing on my decision, of course.
So, there you go. I’ve said it. I’m a man and I want to watch the royal wedding.
And then visit the pub to man up, talk about football and drink real ale.
Happy St George’s day, incidentally.