Open Writing

Red, white and blue ribbons fluttered on the outer fence of Heather’s and John’s home in northern Johannesburg. Their dread-locked gardener opened the electric gate, we drove in and parked on the emerald-green lawn to the left of the walled entertainment area. The pedestrian gate, hung with a huge Union Jack, opened to reveal the thatched lapa graced with red, white and blue bunting and balloons, tables were set with white table-cloths strewn with Union Jacks of all sorts and sizes.

Heather greeted us at the front door with a white rose corsage each a programme and menu printed with the Royal Crest and a glass of champagne.

Leon and I had dressed with great care that morning. We’d been looking forward to Heather’s ‘Royal Wedding Street Party’ for weeks. I dressed in red, white and denim and threw a red and gold chiffon scarf over my hair as I loathe wearing hats. Leon wore English tweeds, a deer-stalker hat, and Union Jack socks. The other ladies wore delicate, spring-like dresses and skirts, with large hats and were a little uncomfortable in the rather cool autumn weather. The other men were comfy in jeans and T-shirts, some with pullovers.

When we arrived at 11.30 South African Time, an hour later than England, Sky News was blazing on the large TV in the lounge. We were quickly absorbed in the excitement, watching the glory of the Royal Wedding spool out as smoothly as a well-oiled clock.

We wolfed down open smoked salmon and cucumber sandwiches. Conversation flowed, with irreverent comments on the guests’ dresses and hats, whether totally outrageous, frumpy, or absolutely gorgeous, and who was who and related in what way to whom.

We were spell-bound by the sights and sounds of pageantry, fighting back tears at the majesty of pealing bells and the clarion-calls of heraldic buglers, the clip-clop of horses’ hooves en masse accompanying the red and gold fairytale of the carriage-ride. There was the kiss on the balcony of Buckingham Palace, a faint echo of an earlier kiss some 30 years ago, but this was so much more heartfelt, more human, and hopefully leading to a warmer, happier marriage.

Odd thoughts drifted through my mind: “Imagine spending the first night of your honeymoon at your grand-mother-in-law’s home – even if it is Buckingham Palace!” Of course once it became clear that it would be an all-night party, not some romantic twosome, I felt somewhat more comfortable.

And, “Eyebrows are definitely the latest fashion – darken and enhance them and let the rest of the face look after itself…” was another, as I gazed at all the fashionable ladies on the screen.

When official coverage of the wedding was over, we went out to the sun-drenched lapa, sat down at the Union-Jack-laden tables and gloried in the warmth. It had become distinctly chilly in front of the TV.

Our table-mats were Union Jacks bearing the details: HRH Prince William of Wales K.G. – Miss Catherine Middleton on the horizontal cross; Royal Wedding 29 April 2011, on the vertical cross; and photos of the royal groom and his lovely bride above the flag, separated by the royal crest.

Heather had arranged for a parcel from Tesco in England to be delivered to friends visiting a week or two before the wedding. From this parcel were conjured Union Jack paper serviettes, mini-Union Jacks name tags and smaller scatter-flags bringing the white double-damask table-cloths to gaudy life.

The luncheon menu, with the royal crest on the front cover, and decorated inside with crowns, read:
Welsh leek and potato soup with Celtic knot rolls
Commonwealth Coronation Chicken
Tudor Asparagus Tart
Sandringham Salad
Balmoral Bean Salad
Jersey Royal New Potatoes
Irish Soda Bread
Ye Olde English Sherry Trifle
Scones with jam and clotted cream
Tea and coffee served with Scottish shortbread biscuits.

Each couple at the party had contributed at least one dish to this Right Royal Meal.

Between the main course and the dessert we played the ‘Bucklebury Village Beetle Drive’ – my first beetle drive ever and great fun.

An hour or so later, after sherry trifle and several more glasses of bubbly and wine, we played Cool Britannia Trivia, another item conjured from Tesco parcel. In this we discovered that the 21 October is National Apple Day in England, that the British, unsurprisingly, will always talk about the weather, and that in Cambridge one can row along ‘The Backs’… Mary Quant, Twiggy, Dame Judy Dench and Rowan Atkinson all featured in the trivia questions. There were only two South Africans among the group of ex-patriot Brits, and most of them fared as badly as we did, though one bright friend got eight answers out of thirteen to the remainder’s piffling two or three.

A lot later, well after dark, we enjoyed a round of Buckingham Palace Bingo, and Leon won a lovely red and white England cap sporting the George Cross. He was delighted.

After coffee and tea and shortbread, we drove the three minutes’ home just after nine o’clock that evening, feeling that we had definitely been part of the world-wide celebrations, one with the world. Heather’s Street Party was a roaring success.

With all the troubles in the Middle East and North Africa, the financial troubles of the world, the stress and tensions of daily life, the world needs something positive, something beautiful, to focus on.

The British Royal Family certainly knows how to put on a glorious pageant, outdoing anything Hollywood or Bollywood can produce.

Until next time…. ‘here comes Treble!’

© Copyright Reserved by Isabel Bradley