wedding fit for a king

I stayed up a bit late last night, so I was tardy for the royal wedding. Thankful for DVR and Diane Sawyer, I tuned in exactly as the queen arrived at Westminster Abbey. Glorious in sunny yellow! I do wonder, though. Why does the queen carry a purse? I doubt she'd be stopping for a cup of carry-out tea.

The ladies' hats were out in full regalia! Some, like Camilla's, had elegantly lovely lines. Others, like Princess Beatrice (on the right in this photo, with sister Eugenie), comically resembled reindeer antlers. How did this girl keep a straight face?

And Victoria Beckham's maternity outfit: excessvely formless. You'd think she could smile on such a happy occasion!

The procession. The hats. Kate's dress. Pippa's dress. The balcony kiss(es). The groom's military dress attire. All fabulous and fascinating.

But then I began hearing about the 10,000 canapes. I've never been much into canapes, I don't believe. While I don't doubt the food at the royal reception was scrumptious, after reading the description, I realize I am clueless when it comes to royal food:

"They included pressed duck terrine with fruit chutney, roulade of goat's cheese with caramelised walnuts, quails eggs with celery salt, bubble and squeak with confit shoulder of lamb, grain mustard and honey-glazed chipolatas and miniature Yorkshire pudding with roast fillet of beef and horseradish mousse."

Bubble and squeak? Oh, yum. OK, my mom used to make Yorkshire pudding. Love that.

Then there's the cake. A gal the very same age as me was the royal cake-baker. Wow. Can you even imagine? Good job, Fiona. Looks like you hit a home run.

Though I don't know you, nor you me ... I am proud of you, Fiona.

Proud that you, a 56-year-old sister, baked the cake of the century.

Not a 25 nor 38-year-old, but a 56-year-old.

Age has its privileges.

And your cake looks stupendously beautiful and delicious.

Thank you, Britain, for a day of pageantry. Thank you, William and Kate.

Happy honeymoon, happy life!