The world from my window

Picture: Alexi Lubomirski/Kensington Palace The village hall in Lush Places wasn't exactly packed for the Royal Wedding. But it wasn't exactly sparse, either. Locals gathered together with food to share (and drink to keep hold of) as the big screen worked its magic. I did notice, though, some rather upmarket and expensive scotch eggs which didn't stray far from the person who had brought them. The bride looked stunning in a simple, white dress, and the bridegroom was a handsome, dashing serviceman in uniform. The coverage was well worth watching, if only to see Windsor Castle in all its glory and St George's Chapel lit up by those lovely flowers. Everyone agrees, though, that the preacher, The Most Reverend   Michael Curry, made his mark. No-one's going to forget that address in a hurry. We loved the sentiment and power and culture-clashing zeal of his sermon. But it was far too long.  He was aiming for six or seven minutes, but it went on for fourteen ....

The bronze nymph in England's glory Mr Champagne-Charlie comes back from the churchyard cream tea. He is crestfallen. 'They've run out of scones,' he says. 'So I'm having a gin instead.' Several gins later and he's ready for the pram race. Darling Loggins, her friend and I are pushing 'Princess Margaret' (Bubbles Champagne-Charlie), complete with bandaged feet, in a wheelchair with a gin bottle 'drip' attached. It's hard work, this running, especially in dark glasses and a nun's habit. On our first lap Bubbles loses her hat and we are nudged into the verge by The Walking Wounded, with a bandaged Champagne-Charlie the passenger in another wheelchair being pushed by Mr Grigg, Anakin Sheepwash and Number One Son. They are closely followed by Celebrity Farmer in a pig mask and assorted members of his family wearing animal heads. Postman Pat rushes by and four blue Smurfs shoot past, the drizzle making their paint run. Te...