Wedding daze

I witnessed it by chance and almost in a daze in an Autobahn services in Austria. Perhaps it was the strong coffee I was drinking? Or maybe the sun shining too brightly through the cafeteria window onto the HD screen? Or the effects of 3 hours at the wheel.

Whatever the cause I was almost as uncomfortable as if I had really been there at Westminster, or nearby, in the crush of infectious hilarity and the madcap open bosomed crowd.

Frantic females yelled frantic remarks: 'Ooh I can't wait to see er dress'. Their offspring poked small flags on sticks into bystanders eyes. Hungover men and couples with flasks of soup bragged how they'd slept on the pavement all night, not thinking that some do so every night. Even in winter.

I didn't manage to see Prince William of Wales' Irish Guards sword. Perhaps he forgot it. Or maybe he thought it wise to leave it at home. No point in provoking a God of love.

I didn't spot the flag of Wales presumably hidden by all the union bunting; you know, the principlaity flag, the flag bearing the dragon; yes the green, white and red flag that one sees fluttering outside all the gates of all the caravan parks and fairgrounds from Barry to Prestatyn and also on the ramparts of the ruined castles. No point in provoking the Londoners.

But it was all very lovely; and as far as royal weddings go it was certainly a major production. In fact it was probably what one might call a success. There will certainly be a couple of highly deserved knighthoods in the offing.

Prince Philip didn't nod off. Paddy Power was offering 6/1 that he would. The Queen was pastel Frühling itself in her subdued yellow suit and hat. Almost a subdued Welsh daffodil yellow, I thought later.

Prince Harry of Wales played his part with soldierly Shakespearian gusto. He should follow brother Edward (also of Wales?) onto the stage of the Globe methinks.

Elton John and Mrs Furnish looked suitably serious, and they were in shot several times.

I didn't see Black Adder. Of the two Rowans I saw only one.

Father Charles of Wales wore the satisfied smile of a victor when they all strolled along the carpet to the cathedral exit and him one step nearer the throne.

The Poet Laureate Ms Duffy of Scotland will surely promulgate an exacting account of the proceedings in which the star will be the slinky white dress of the bride's sylph like sister.

Harry next.