Friends are arriving at my home very early tomorrow morning for a Pajamas and Tiaras party. With mimosas in hand, we’ll watch King Charles III and Queen Camilla take ancient oaths with their medieval garb and platter-sized diamonds.
My interest in the royal family dates back several years, when a bad bout of insomnia had me reading gossip blogs at 3 am. (Archives here.) Harry and Meghan already had insiders buzzing about bad behavior. Later, the royal soap opera became front page stories in the American press when they stormed out of the country in 2020.
So, why is this American, with ancestry from County Fermanagh, watching the King’s Coronation? We still have family stories about English cruelty to our people. Personally, I am repulsed that we have people trotting about on our side of the Atlantic, who are using their titles here.
I’m watching because, in addition to the Shakespearean family drama, this event itself is a time machine to 1066, when the magnificent and the horrific stood side by side. From a safe distance, we are monarchy-curious, when our own rudderless democracy seems to be on the verge of another messy election. And I like quiche and mimosas.