We’re flying to Rome on the day of The Wedding. I’m kind of sorry now to miss the spectacle of the crowds and the celebrations, even though I have very little interest in the actual proceedings. The Union Jack bunting everywhere is brilliantly festive: in Regent Street there are row upon row of giant flags and it is a stirring sight.
I feel sorry for ‘the happy couple’ though. At best, a wedding is a public declaration of love between two people, celebrated by their nearest and dearest. This is a circus of celebrity and politics, the media rabid over whether Lily Allen and Posh Spice got invitations, and the ghost of Diana (and all the sordid detail of her marriage to Charles) is ever present. I really hope that somewhere in there, the young people getting married have something that’s just for them.