Well, it’s finally happened… a day before the big event, I’ve got myself a bit suckered in.
Prince Harry is due to marry Meghan Markle tomorrow and even I am feeling just a teeny weeny bit excited.
It’s not that I am anti-royal – I actually really like that we have a royal family and I think they do a lot for Britain – it’s more that at the moment my focus is so completely on growing our business and this wonderful project I have of making a success of my life.
(Ok, and the dogs, they are a BIG focus. And Dean. But – mostly – dogs.)
I generally live in a bubble. I don’t watch the news, barely watch TV, just pretty much 100% live and breathe our business journey, soaking up information and knowledge and experiences that will help us.
So the romance between the American beauty and her charismatic suitor has movely passed me by.
Until yesterday. Driving to site to see our current clients, then on to a 1 to 1 with a fellow BNI member, then back to the client’s house, then back to the office/home to get changed and then over to my fitness class, I had the radio on. Every time a song finished the DJ said “Two days to go to the royal wedding…” then he would throw another snippet of information in about the wedding.
After my 1 to 1 I popped into a fantastic little charity shop (very affluent area, know what I mean?!) and this charming little display greeted me:
And then it hit me. I was in danger of missing out on a moment in time, one of those events that unite us, creating combined memories and levelling the platform from which we all catch the trains of our lives. Love them or hate them, we will all be a part of it just as it will be a part of us. In these days of fast blame and division, memories that unite us are more important than ever.
I still remember the street party we held back on July 29th, 1981, when Prince Charles married Lady Diana Spencer, in the village of Birkenshaw, West Yorkshire. I was eight years old and so many of the lovely neighbours who lived around us on The Square, Moorlands Road, came to celebrate with us. We had red, white and blue cakes, jelly and drinks, we all wore red, white and blue socks. I showed off Union Jack ribbons in my hair. Life was very different then, so much more innocent and it is a memory I am so grateful to have.
On April 29th, 2011, when Prince William married Catherine Middleton, I was coming towards the end of my six-month stint working in North Carolina, USA. I was desperately homesick and although, again, I wasn’t overly interested in their wedding, I felt very keenly how I was missing out on an event back home. Watching from miles away just is not the same, in fact it is overwhelmingly isolating. Plus I was five hours behind the UK, so even though I got up early I missed much of it.
So tomorrow I will be watching the wedding, and wishing the newlyweds all the best. I don’t have anything particularly patriotic to wear but I will be flying my inner Union Jack with pride. No one does pomp and ceremony quite as well as our magnificent city of London, and I will raise a nice cup of Yorkshire Tea in honour.