With hippie left wing parents, it can be hard finding a way to rebel. And so, when I was around twelve, I developed a bit of a thing for the Royals. Because I knew it would give my mum the shits. Cut out pictures of Lady, then Princess, Diana and stuck them on my bedroom door. Stole money from my mother’s purse to buy the Women’s Weekly (these were the days before Maxine McKew came on the news to tell us it would come out monthly, but still be called weekly – you don’t remember that, do you, but I do). That kind of thing. I tell you, it was all change the world with me.

Anyhoo, old habits do die hard, and so, despite the metres of ‘Vote Yes for a Republic’ bunting which is stored in our attic and studio (these are, as I think I have explained, fancy names for rather ordinary things) I’ve never been able to quite stop watching the Royals. And so, I was as fascinated as anyone* else when Willsy and Kate called it off. I must admit, I approached it with a bit of a ‘oh, two young people have decided they don’t want to pash anymore, not so surprising that’, but I do sympathise with Kate because when I used to stay with cousins or friends, my father, as he drove away from the curb would call out (and he has a loud voice) ‘and don’t forget to go to the toilet to pick your nose’. And I can still hear the mothers of my friends as they turned their heads, sniffed and said lavatory, it’s not a toilet, it’s a lavatory.

How I got to be the well-balanced success you see today I’ll never know.

Like I say, tiara recommended.

*You might need to scroll down a bit, I can’t work out how to do the links to individual posts in blogger anymore.