I’m happy today. The reason for this joy is that I was not invited to attend the royal wedding of Prince Harry and Meghan Markle. .
Before I celebrated my non invitation, I checked my emails again today to ensure there was no last minute message from the wedding hosts reading something like, “We still have not heard from you. May we have the pleasure of your reply as we have to instruct the caterer accordingly.”
No such email. Modified rapture.
I think most of us would have issues if we were invited to this classy gala event.
Firstly there is the cost pf the trip. We cannot expect the hosts to subsidize it. I recall Prince Harry travelled to a wedding in Georgia a couple of years ago but without his then girlfriend as she was short in cash and Harry declined to treat. What could we expect?
Then there is the attire. This is a grand shindig. I’d have no clue what to wear. I doubt the invite said something like, “Black tie optional”. I know the Brits usually welcome guys in kilts. This would be a non starter for me. England can get damp and cold in the springtime. And even if it were an option, I would want to wear a tartan from my clan. This might be a problem. I in fact did a Google search but I could not come up with clan MacStrigberger. And certainly I would not want to otherwise wear any old tartan and be accused of cultural appropriation.
Then there is the food itself. I don’t know what’s on the menu is but I have restrictions. I can’t stand the sight or smell of white sauces, vinegars and most of all, Parmesan cheese. When I see those servers at Italian eateries approaching a table near me offering to douse a customer’s dish with that vile smelling cheese, I transform from my mild mannered self into the Incredible Hulk.
I usually deal with these issues in advance by calling the party hosts and asking them review the menu with the caterer. Presumably in this case Prince Charles would be the man to go to and discuss my dietary essentials. However I would feel a bit uncomfortable calling him just before the wedding and being overly blunt. I’d probably have to be more discreet. I’d likely say, “Hi Charles. How’s your polo coming along these days? By the way, at the luncheon are they serving pasta?
Then of course there is the question of a gift. What do you get a couple whose wedding is estimated to cost over $50 million? I usually throw in a cheque for a couple of hundred dollars. Actually it depends to some extent on my advance knowledge of the food menu. They cross me over with the non edibles I loath, and forget the gift. I’m the one who expects compensation.
Anyway, even if invited I would have declined. After all I cannot just attend the wedding of every Tom, Dick and Harry.
