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One day later, I am still feeling jet–lagged tired from having gotten up yesterday morning at 5 am to watch The Royal Wedding. At this rate, I’ll still be feeling the effects of that lack of sleep when the newlyweds will be having their first spat. (Or have they already taken care of that one?) I wasn’t going to get up. I was going to ignore this whole wedding stuff and just sleep in for a change. It was an absolutely perfect day to do just that — cool, rainy, dark and not a chorus of birds singing outside my window. But when 5 am rolled around I was awake. I tried to convince myself to go back to sleep but to no avail. Would I really be missing something historical that I would later regret? Would everyone be talking about it without my input? After all, I had gotten up to watch when Diana and Charles and William and Kate got hitched. And this one would  make it the magic three and thus a tradition. Wasn’t it worth getting up for this trifecta ? Besides, it would most likely be the last royal wedding I’d see in my lifetime. Would I be putting some kind of a mild curse on Harry and Meghan by not getting up? Did it really matter that I wasn’t counted amongst the millions — or was it billions — glued to their TVs watching the hoopla?

As with all difficult decisions, I consulted the cats to see what they would do. Rose, sprawled on my legs, quickly put four paws up in the air for her vote to Stay-in-Bed. Nick, on the other hand, who was already up and wanted some company — and food — gave his Watch-Wedding-Vote by sticking his bad-breath face into mine and keeping it there. It’s hard to ignore that kind of voter pressure. Could that be construed as Vote Tampering? It worked. I roused Rose off my legs, got up, brushed my teeth, donned my comfy robe Sarah gave me for my birthday — appropriate for formal wedding watching — and joined the masses of Worldwide Wedding Watchers.

Five-in-the-morning wedding watching required a very, very large pot of strong tea and would, if I had planned accordingly, have been enhanced by a scone or biscuit or even a bagel. I had to settle for my usual oatmeal. I was ready to be enthralled or, at least, entertained enough to stay awake. It wasn’t hard because, I have to confess, I love this kind of pageantry (which is probably the reason I got out of bed in the first place). I love the carriages and white horses and flowers and bands and protocols and the dress code that the Hollywood elite had to follow. Gads, I even tear up with the singing of God Save the Queen. Throw in a spectacular bride and love and sunshine and a Prince and a perfect spring day and the most beautiful summer dresses and morning coat-ed men and I am a captive audience — 5 am or not.

So, yes, even though I’m sleepy still, I’m glad I got up and watched it live. But, truth be told, I think I must have slipped off into a few cat naps here and there because, after taking to my friend, Judith, it seems I missed a lot. But not to worry, there is always the recording I made and the advantage of now being able to watch it all with a fast-forward remote handy and a full night’s sleep. And, I’ll probably still tear up when they sing God Save the Queen.

PS: Oh, one of the best parts of the morning, and certainly a fairy-tale ending for my early rising, was that I found my favourite pair of earrings, thought lost in the jumble of moving, in the pocket of my start-studded-blue-belted bathrobe.