My dad was English. That has to be the reason. I can’t think of any other reason why my otherwise very French blood would yearn for a peek at the newly anointed Duke and Duchess of Cambridge. Except that despite their disdainful attitude, the French are positively enamoured of the Royal family. My grandmother wanted to see, above all else, BuckinghamPalace, when she once touredLondon, or so says my mom.
So what’s the fascination? I’m not sure but I know one thing: it’s not just me. 1300 press credentials were issued for theOttawaportion of the tour. When the Queen last visitedCanada, that number was more like 50. I asked a few people whether they were interested in the tour and they were more or less indifferent. They were more worried about jobs, businesses, and the fact that the kids are now running wild, with school ended for the summer! Royal couple? Bah Humbug! So I asked the question on Twitter – Do you care about the Royal tour? Jeffrey Macklin very quickly tweeted back “Not one little bit”. His response was more or less indicative of the general sentiment.
But for me, I can’t help it. I was 9 when Diana married Charles and my Dad and I got up at 4 in the morning to watch the whole thing. He even stood up during God Save the Queen. I still have a commemorative coin that my grandparents sent me from one of the big UKbanks. The dress is what it thrilled me mostly… and the tiara. I tried on a similarly huge dress when I was in the market, some 10 years ago… Apparently you really DO have to be married at St Paul’s Cathedral in Londonto justify that level of poof and lace. So I moved on, but never without some thought about Diana, lingering in the back of my mind. I was up all night and glued to the TV when she died. And the funeral… Well, don’t even get me started on that one. Suffice it to say that there was a shortage of Kleenex around my house that day. And then I dropped the Royal family. Without Diana, they were of little interest. I wasn’t all fired interested in the teenage antics of the boys and I didn’t care what they dressed up as for Hallowe’en parties. Even their homage to their mother on the 10th anniversary of her death didn’t bring me back. Then Kate, or Catherine as she should now be called, came on the scene and all of a sudden I was hooked again. I didn’t want to be her, the way I had wanted to be Diana when I was a child but there was some instinct in me that made me watch the wedding. I cried a little… The eternal romantic, I guess, buying into the fairytale story yet again.
Perhaps it is the complete lack of magic in our general world of late that makes them captivating to me and many others (albeit no one I have met on Twitter, but that’s another article). A need for something ‘feel good’ instead of the endless bad news about war and economy and the general state of affairs. Whatever it is, I think I’ll stop asking questions and just embrace it.