Diana's Boy to Wed

Wow, one week from today Diana's little boy will stand at the High Alter in Westminster Abbey watching his bride, the beautiful Catherine, enter the through the Great West Door and make the long walk down the marble aisle to join him.

And where will the Fortuitous Housewife be that morning?

Unfortunately, my invitation to the nuptials seems to have been delayed in the trans-Atlantic mail, but I will definitely be curled up on my couch, sipping English Breakfast Tea & nibbling scones, watching every priceless moment on the tellie!

Why, you ask, would I drag myself from a cozy bed and miss an hour of much needed sleep? They'll be playing the highlights for days, weeks, months to come.

And the answer is simply because that is just what I did that morning back in July 1981!

I still remember the tingles & goosebumps as my teenage self (Yep, I'm dating myself a bit, but she was a few years older then me!) watched the lovely 20-year-old Lady Diana emerge from the carriage, walk up that aisle, and marry her prince.

Generally I'm not one for the trashy tabs, but I was always drawn to the latest news or photos of Diana. Whether dancing with John Travolta at the White House, or surviving the frumpiest of maternities (remember this was back in the dark days before maternity and style were introduced!), or forging ahead as a the world's most stylish single mum, I was always rooting for her.

Then there are those shocking moments in history, the details of which are seared into our memory. 

For me, one such moment was that August night in 1997.

I had just returned home from dinner with friends, turned on the tube in my bedroom, and went in the bathroom to brush my teeth. Over the running water & power toothbrush, I heard snippets of CNN...Princess Diana...Paris...car crash...rushed to hospital. Toothbrush still in mouth, I walked back into my bedroom, turned up the volume and stood there, frozen to the spot, as the reporter recounted the evening's events.

A few days later I woke once again on London time to bear witness, say a prayer and say my personal farewell to a lady, a princess, a peer, a friend I never met, a role model of grace, compassion, and style. There I sat, crying into my cup of tea, as the Windsors, the Spencers, the English people, the world, said goodbye to our Princess.

I will never forget William and Harry walking behind the casket carrying their mother, or the note perched atop the white rose bouquet, simply addressed "Mummy".

Just typing these paragraphs brings tears to my eyes.

Fast forward 14 years...the fairytale resumes! 

I was so pleased (and proud, actually) to see that iconic sapphire & diamond ring resting on Miss Middleton's ring finger. 

So next Friday I will be up before the sun rises on Boston to watch her first born wed. Diana can't be there, so I feel as though it is somehow my duty to be there (as part of the worldwide audience of billions) on her behalf.

And just like some doting Auntie, I'm sure I will shed a tear or two for the Mother that must watch this moment from a seat in heaven, and for the little boy who has grown to manhood, always remembering the woman who loved him first.

You are cordially invited -- Friday, April 29th, 5am EST -- to join me for a spot of tea, some fresh-baked scones, cream & jam, and a sip (or two, or three) of bubbly to toast Diana's little boy & his bride, the future King & Queen of England.