Hysteria. Queues. Outragious fashion. Prince Charming. We had it all on Friday night - in Homebush.
An hour before Kate swept gracefully into Westminster Abbey, I made my own dramatic entrance, swept off my feet by some moss and down my friend’s front steps in Balmain, taking out a large pot plant and fracturing my toe (now purple).
Sprawled across the damp pavers - a potted azalea in my lap, bits of me hurting but I wasn’t sure which yet - I took one look at my 12-year-old and saw that she had crowned me, in that moment, the Most Embarrassing Mum Ever.
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The outpouring of saccharine dross about the upcoming Royal Marriage has thrown into sharp relief the spectacularly low expectations we have of Royals.
William and Kate are being feted as the saviours of the monarchy largely because they are not foolish, badly behaved muppets and are not an embarrassment to the institution and the country.
Indeed they seem like reasonably likeable, down-to-earth people considering their situation - keeping in mind that I am making a totally uninformed judgment here.
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