Sunday, 1 May 2011

Those Boys

I spent the 1990's in a drunken stupor.

One day in August, 1997 I'd started drinking early. Sometime in the afternoon, I went into my bedroom to put socks on, because my feet were cold. The room was doing its usual spin, so I had to sit down on the bed and concentrate.

My boyfriend walked in to announce that Princess Diana was dead. I was angry, told him it was NOT funny. Unfortunately it wasn't a joke, and I spent days - weeks, a sobbing mess next to the TV. Those boys. Those boys.

I'd catch the train to my awesome receptionist job and back, desperately wishing the world could get rewound, back in time, so Di could put her seatbelt on. She literally died of a broken heart, in a French hospital called "Pity." It was all so terrible and poetic.


My mother, my grandmother ... and I dare say my great-grandmother Maudie B. were all huge Royal fans. I watched the Royal Wedding in 1981, back in the olden days. Mum taped it, it was so long she needed two VHS tapes. They stayed in our video cabinet for many years, clearly labelled. I remember when Di fell pregnant with William; she even brought him with her to Australia in 1983 when he was just nine months old. Baby William looked strikingly similar to my own brother, who was just a bit older.

Even as her whole world was crumbling, nothing was more evident than the immense love she had for those two boys.

Years later, after my grandmother died, we were all allowed to choose one item of hers. I chose her Charles & Di Engagement Commemorative Tea Tin. I loved how she kept it all these years, long after their divorce.

Watching Diana's funeral on TV I was completely devastated. 25 years old, completely devastated ... and kind of wondering why I was completely devastated at the death of a distant princess. I remember grief experts talking on the news about how her death was triggering a lot of unresolved grief in many people.


Wills and Harry grew up. I'm just so proud of both of them. They are warm, welcoming .. with big hearts and strength to match. I knew I'd cry when I watched the wedding last night. I wondered if Di was watching, then decided that of course she was, and she has been watching her boys grow up this whole time.

I made a special meal to celebrate - behold, the Crown Rack of Lamb Roast!

                                           Fatty. But yummy.

Hot Dollar had run out of tiaras, so I had to make do with my tea cosy. My convict heart was BURSTING with pride.

Seeing those boys both walk to the car to go to the church. That red suit. The nervousness, and the beautiful smiles. I watched Harry looking in awe at Kates beauty, as she finally met William at the altar. They all looked like kids playing dress-ups. From the best dress-up box on the planet.

I lost a few twitter followers from my annoying live-tweeting, but come ON. It's not too often you're on twitter and the use of a hashtag is not necessary. It was so fun - a global, digital slumber party. Everybody was talking about it.

I cried, secretly, so the boys couldn't see. Sitting on my beanbag as close to the fire as humanly possible, without burning myself. It's so sad they were robbed of their mother. It's so sad I was robbed of my father. Same tears.

I ate three lemon puddings straight out of the oven. In quick succession. I almost vomited ... but I didn't. I didn't vomit! A convict heart with iron guts.


I am blessed to have my own two boys. I intend on being there for them forever.

Nice try 90's, but eating ice cream at 5pm on a freezing autumn day in the Blue Mountains? Now THAT'S living dangerously.
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