Wedding fever

For someone who is not what you would in any sense call a royalist, I feel I have made more than a passing contribution to the whole festivities, albeit not by choice. Both the school and the nursery decided to make yesterday a royal wedding special. Both held parties and invited the kids to dress as princes and princesses and bring an array of food.

This meant that I had to spend much of Wednesday sorting out wedding attire for four children and cooking cakes. This involved intervening in various rows about who was going to wear which headband/dress/jacket. Daughter one was allowed to wear daughter two’s puffball dress, but daughter two was a bit peeved that she also wanted to wear her tiara. Daughter two, meanwhile, had planned on wearing my socks which are a little bit too big for her. She then lost her wedding headdress thing at the last minute and required her dress, which daughter three claims to be hers, to be sewn. Daughter three decided to go in her sister’s bridesmaids outfit which is a bit too big and required sponging. The baby was happy to sport a posh shirt and trousers plus a doll’s waistcoat which daughter two had found. Hair and hairbands proved especially controversial.

I also found myself cooking fairy cupcakes for the baby to take to nursery – a process which is a race against time to see whether I can get the mixture into the oven before small people eat all the ingredients. Daughter one had volunteered to take in Betty Crocker chocolate chip cookies. There are no Betty Crocker chocolate chip cookie mixes in the entire area so she had to content herself with brownies. “They taste best fresh,” she intoned ominously on Wednesday night. “Can we get up extra early to make them in the morning?” Oh joy. So I found myself burning the candle at both ends for a wedding I don’t even care about.

As my firmly republican partner settled down in front of the telly with his Barcelona scarf on on Wednesday evening, I handed the sleeping baby over to him. He was slightly on edge. Madrid-Barca is like war for Catalans and he was also having to miss the Masterchef final. I was not sure he would be able to keep the baby in his sleeping state, but I was required upstairs to finish a Wills and Kate poster for daughter one, replete with several Union Jacks. All in all, I feel I have done my bit for the royal wedding without even getting to actually take part or eat any cake. 





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