The wedding of William to Catherine has taken its place in history, and has elicited so many reactions across the spectrum that it’s fair to say the one thing you couldn’t do in respect of the Royal Wedding was ignore it.
Watching the guest list evolve became a media spectator sport in itself, with every inclusion and omission picked to pieces, so much so that the planners must have felt that they were damned if they did and damned if they didn’t.
Like many a wedding, the behaviour of guests will be immortalised in memory as if entered on score cards. I remember, for example, a series of weddings where Auntie Sadie would almost ladle food into Uncle Jim’s mouth to mitigate the skinful he’d have later, Bella would only come if Lachlan wasn’t invited (and vice versa), and Effie and Mungo made such a sweet couple it was easy to forget they hadn’t had a good word to say to each other for years.
It’s possible to concentrate too much on the things that stick out for the wrong reasons at a wedding and forget that it’s about two people becoming one through their love for each other. But the other side of the coin is that a wedding is a communitarian affair whereby a network of friends and family come together, at the very least, to applaud the couple’s brass neck at rising above a sea of fashionable cynicism about the institution’s feasibility, and at best to witness, as the people of God, the union of man and wife in a way that has happened since time immemorial. It’s no coincidence that marriage has survived probably as many obituaries as God, and over the same period.
Well done to Catherine and William for their decision to live as man and wife. May their days together be blessed.