Hats off

The commentators have for weeks been busting a gut promoting royal entanglement and trying to create a theory of Mother Diana - Son William wedding supersymetry. My contribution is that I saw Diana's wedding as a fresh faced girl whilst working in a kindergarten (we packed the kids off for an early nap and hunched around a tiny, portable TV) and I caught a few minutes of William's wedding in the staff room at the Arvo Job before I headed for home tonight. What an amazing coincidence.

That said, I do have something to say about the royal wedding. I love hats, and am a dedicated hat wearing person myself, but if I were a passionate royalist whose ultimate dream had come true when an invitation to the Greatest Event of this Century (apparently not much is going to happen for the next ninety years) was delivered to my butler by a liveried servant, and if I had spent much money and much time on organising an ensemble fit for the Queen's eyes, and if I had been jumping up and down on my four poster bed with excitement for months and months prior to taking my reserved seat in Westminster Abbey just thirty rows down from the royal family, well, I would be very upset to find myself stuck behind one of those head confections many of the women were wearing, my view obstructed by a wide brim or an explosion of feathers or a tower of interestingly twisted hat stuff.

Really, I think the palace people should have roped off a special section for ladies with big hats, where those guilty of fashion crimes and inconsideration could have all battled with each other for a peek at The Dress rather than ruining the event for other, more modestly attired posh folk.