The last two weeks have forced me to reassess my relationship with the Royal Family. Relationship is the wrong word - it's not like they invite me round or anything. My opinion of the Royal Family would perhaps be a better wording.
A few weeks ago, I was certain. I was sure that they are neither use nor ornament and should be ousted in favour of someone like me, who would use the tax payer's hard-earned cash on drink and fun instead of fancy cars and castles. In this way, the country would be united under a monarch who was just like them.
However, in the run up to the wedding things have reached fever pitch. I walk past shops selling Kate Middleton masks. MASKS I TELL YOU. My brother's girlfriend is having a street party. The hairdressers on the High St is offering a ROYAL WEDDING DISCOUNT. It's as if the world has gone mad and I've unwittingly wandered into 1950.
But then it hit me...it's not annoying me. I don't look at all the hype, all the Union Jacks, and feel anger. I feel something else. Is it...patriotism? I think it might be. And that's unusual. You see the British don't often celebrate British-ness. It's quite a rare occurrence. Unless you're Welsh or Scottish in which you have loads of options. The English, then, rarely unite unless there's a World Cup on. But despite the differing opinions on the matter, at least everybody's talking about the same thing for once.
It's difficult to put aside 20 odd years of not knowing what the Windsors actually do, but I think for tomorrow I will try. I'll concentrate on the pomp that Allison mentioned. And, as I'm going to a Royal Wedding party, on the drink that I hope will be flowing soon after they tie the knot.
But after tomorrow it will be business as usual. Honest.