WONDROUS WEDDING

First off, I was absolutely entranced. Transported.

Some good friends invited us to watch it with select friends on their new HDTV. As always, sweetmeats of the succulentest and bubbly of the finest and delightful companions, all of whom seemed to know every aristo worth my deepest curtsey.

The inner-crowd gossip - my dear!

Everyone was so beautiful and of course the Duchesse de Camb ... calm, in control, wondrous fair ... boy did Guillaume land on his feet.

And Cate mère ~ phwoar! Manipulate my gate any time, except how dare I befoul the occasion with such crass remarks?

Li'l Darling ~ there was a young lady there of such poise and charm that it'll be some time before I retrieve my heart. In fact, I hesitate to even mention her because such is the danger of the bloggery villainy I practise that I fear to goof. But her charm wins through and you will adore her and be delighted that I share these pics.

In contrast was an 'exuberant' young man who so hampered my enjoyment of the chocolate gâteau that I had to take my plate and sit next to his mother so that she could see his behaviour.

[That's torn it. So much for an anonymous posting: the 'spirited' scamp is from Corfiot aristocracy and his parents will despatch one of the staff to break my legs for such lèse majesté over their gem]

Gone seem to be the days when one could administer someone else's child a discreet cuff and settle the matter there and then. But I digress.

Let us call her 'Naomi'. I recognised at once a child after my own heart: her modest mien and constant glances at her parents to check that she was 'behaving'. I joined her in her games with Her Little Pony and modestly garbed Barbie and used her Little Mermaid to recreate our favourite scenes from the movie.

Chapeau! - did you see the grotesquerie perched atop the heads of Fergie's brood? I mean, DID you? [Note to Sub-editor, try to find a pic, there's a good chap]

Naomi and I shared a guffaw over such Non-U millinery whereupon, sans prompting, she grabbed one of those dome baskets for keeping wasps away from the marmaladed toast et voilà!, the most perfect summer hat.

And her instinctive right-hand raising of the skirt. Style.

Philippa ~ I felt guilt over paying more attention to the younger (27) sister of the bride but tiens! every red-blooded man in the universe was doing the same.

Tina Brown's Daily Beast:

"She may not have been wearing the Alexander McQueen gown, but her impact was extraordinary.

Twitter went into overdrive, crackling with observations as lewd as they were flattering, as a billion TV viewers took in Prince William’s shapely new sister in law.

'This wedding has mainly been about Pippa Middleton’s amazing arse, hasn’t it?' tweeted British journalist Caitlin Moran."

Totally, and I fear for her privacy now that the reptiles have caught her scent. Dost have a chap? That one'll bite the dust once they trace him and apply the 4th Degree.

Grace van Cutsem

Speaking of cute little gals, that chunk-faced bridesmaid who covered her ears at the flypast - is she OK? I'm sure she's a delightful little thing but she rather stood out from the rest of the picture-perfect toddlers and didn't seem to be taking it all in with the same savoir faire of the others. Just wondering aloud.

A propos de rien, isn't it cool that everyone refers to Wills and Cate as having lived together and nary a tut or sniff? In fact, a thoroughly modern wedding: 2 kisses; Aston Martin with L plates (ho ho); Queen banned from the après knees-up; trees in the Abbey (shades of Burnham) ... oh, everything.

Congrats, too, to the police for running such a tight show. Mind you, such was the joy and enthusiasm that any fools who attempted disruption would have been torn limb from limb and by the time the Fuzz would have elbowed through to rap their knuckles there wouldna been much left to tip into the Black Maria.

Maman had been there the week before to collect her Maundy coins, so she was able to rattle on, and such was the politesse of the guests that they feigned convincing interest in the souvenirs she'd brought along.

After thoughts:

• I was so pleased that Team Beckham got such short shrift from the cameras. I suspect that orders went out to give the slebs a big miss.
• Did you see the funereal disaster she was toting? And her glum expression? Mourning her fashion disaster and the lack of attention. PoshFail!
• As for little David, pinning his medals on the wrong side - what can one do with these Non-U spazzes? Not let them out, of course, but fat chance.
• Elton - puffy of face and just looking awful. Lucky he hooked hisself a cute toyboy when he could.
• Jimmy Middleton - Speaking of cute BoyToy (23), bit of a spray-tan there, methinks.
• Her Maj - all those unsmiling beady looks all around, as if checking everyone was there who should be and behaving comme il faut.

  That slab of a hat didnt do favours, neither, but what the heck.

  Maman exchanged a few words with her on Maundy Pembti and says she is tiny tiny but with amazing blue eyes.

  As per my PR background, when Church House asked for brief details on Mum, I sent such good stuff that a palace PR called up to chat and I gave her what she wanted incl dad's bio. As a result, they mentioned Mum's Linnean medals as well as Dad.

  Mum: they really are remarkable, they knew about my Linnean Gold Medal and even Dad's track record.

  Biogs - as Her Majesty progresses down the line to dole out the coins, one courtier carries a cushion on which is placed the two pouches. Another courtier is briefing the Queen, "Now we come to Lady Holmes, you met her in Hong Kong in 19??. Lady Holmes is blah blah and her husband Sir Ronald served in the Hong Kong government and escorted the Duke of Edinburgh around the New Territories.

  How he does this for each pensioner, apparently without notes, is that high in the control tower is someone talking down to an ear-piece reading from notes garnered from info' from the likes of moi. Think Broadcast News.

  I emailed the palace PR to congratulate her team and she mailed back 'No, thank YOU. Your notes were the best.' I told her that if ever she came to Corfu she must let me know and we will have tea. Guess what? She plans a honeymoon here. Toady pander - my new best friend in the Palace.

  I mentioned to her the damfool rumour that the gilded couple might look in on Corfu for their Lune de Miel. ['Good try, Chris!']

  In fact, I see from today's dawn news that the honeymoon has been called off until a later more secure date. End of rumouring.