Royal Wedding, and hope for humanity. Really.

London dressed for a wedding (Wiki commons)

The Queen of England looked as happy this morning, leaving her grandson’s wedding, as I’ve ever seen her. I think that has meaning. Whether HRH Queen Elizabeth II is finally accepting change, I cannot tell, but I would surmise that her grandson and his bride, the very breath of the modern couple, seem to have lured Her Majesty into something of a thaw. It is possible that the sheer magnitude of their enduring love―lasting a decade and enduring vicissitudes of sorts and still ending at a traditional altar bedecked ecologically, it’s clergy enjoined to offer globally inclusive prayers written by that couple―will bring about change that is good for their subjects, even before, some years hence, they ascend the throne.

How we got here

While Wills and Harry, his children, have always been favourites of the people and the press, Prince Charles has always seemed a sort of poor stick. HRH Prince Charles was done no favours by a forced marriage to a woman he didn’t love, who nonetheless provided two appealing sons and raised them well. His marriage to Camilla Parker Bowles seemed a travesty, and it was, simply because it should have happened decades earlier, nor not have happened at all. Someone needed to be wiser, and no one was.

But what is, as the New Agers say, is best. I believe it. Princess Diana was the martyr to change in the British monarchy, god rest her soul. Prince Charles wasn’t quite ready to be dragged kicking and screaming into what I think, in fact, he wanted―marriage to a commoner he loved. He wasn’t ready to give up the throne, nor tussle with his formidable mother and father. So be it. He didn’t get to marry his commoner, rather than Diana the fake commoner, whose pedigree exceeded that of Charles himself, although the grandest title she possessed was Lady, making her almost common.

If even half what was written by Diana herself and in the tabloids was true, Prince Charles was something of a cad toward her. But think about it: He was forced to marry an incredibly young and sheltered virgin many years younger, a starry-eyed girl who had no equipment either or royal life or to either vanquish, or accept, a romantic rival.

Had Diana been French, she might have said, as so many French woman have done for so long, “Well, have your little fling. Go on holiday with her, if you like. But bring yourself and your pay check home to me.” A practical viewpoint, but one that wasn’t going to wash either with the British monarch-in-waiting or with his child bride. And so, disaster struck.

The other woman, no better than she had to be

Camilla? Well, she was the only cast member in this royal drama who could have made a tragedy into a comedy, but chose not to. Had she walked away, perhaps….but then, what is, is best.

And so, after Diana the fake commoner who was elevated to royalty, and Camilla the bona fide commoner was not elevated by the Queen (doubtless in mind of the havoc wreaked in the royal household by Camilla), we have Kate Middleton, a bona fide commoner who has been elevated to HRH status by the Queen.

It appears Kate Middleton has won acceptance by the guardian of the British monarchy’s tradition, HRH Queen Elizabeth II. It bespeaks not just a small change, I think, but perhaps a large one, all things considered. There has been no hint that HRH Queen Elizabeth was dismayed by this marriage.  Indeed, she did make a few demands―tiara rather than flowers in the bride’s hair, I think, and a traditional wedding breakfast. But despite having relatively little input to the wedding of the second in line to the throne, and a man who will almost doubtlessly reign longer than his father will, the Queen seemed genuinely happy.

Global wedding of sorts

Queen Elizabeth’s grandson and his bride wrote a prayer that was inclusive not only of his subjects-to-be, but of all the world. I think the couple take their vows to each other seriously, but I think they take their vows to humanity more seriously still. They vowed, in that prayer, to attend to the needs of others. Period. End of story. It is unclear what Kate Middleton as done to date that would demonstrate her commitment to a duty to humanity in general and her future subjects in particular. But Prince William has demonstrated his intention with actions: He is a search & rescue helicopter pilot. Search and rescue. Service and assistance. A dangerous job, a job only carried out when mortal peril is on the horizon.

If one combines Prince William’s service to others with...

The compassion he learned from his mother …

The gifts of his father’s nature (who I think history will paint with some errors, big ones, but with some genuine contributions to human welfare as well)…

And the steadfastness of a monarchy―of which he is a part―that endured the WWII blitz in situ (in comparison to the behaviour o that execrable US President George W. Bush who fled Washington, DC, in an highly fortified airplane when 3,500 of his citizens had been savagely murdered from the air and needed a leader)…

Then one gets everything one needs to bring the British monarchy forward, possibly fast forward even during the end of his grandmother’s reign, through his father’s time on the throne and into the world Prince William and HRH The Duchess of Cambridge envision, apparent in every particle of their long and thoughtful relationship and their simple and inclusive--by royal standards--marriage ceremony.

Gene therapy to pass the UK driving test

An English 60 mph road. I swear.* (Wiki commons)

Some people seem to lack the genes for various traits. For example, I think I must not have a gene for putting up with stupidity, because no matter how hard I try, I cannot do it.

I also lack the gene for suffering fools gladly; this is something like the above, but a fool is a fool all the time, while anyone may be stupid once from time to time. Thus with the first statement, I won't necessarily write the person off.  Fools? Gone, early and often.

I lack a gene for eating horse meat; I would puke.

I lack the gene for watching reality shows. Well, I did lack it. I think I must have had some unrecognized gene therapy, because I have now watched 14 weeks of the current 15-week run of Hell's Kitchen--despite the fact that there is NO ONE I can champion to win, and one of the two finalists is the most arrogant SOB I've ever seen still alive after the age of 18. (Usually, someone has pounded them by then and they're either human or dead.)

I also lack the following genes:

1. Backing into a supermarket parking bay.
2. Taking 22 minutes to make a three-point turn in the road while using the parking brake and doing The Exorcist head twirl with each move backward or forward.
3. Coming into a roundabout (Americans will read traffic circle) at 4 miles per hour.
4. Considering a Stop sign (one of those big red things that say, in no uncertain terms, STOP, which are the same in both countries) to be an invitation to roll through in first gear.
5. Failing to gasp that you just keep going when the center line has disappeared on a 60 mph two-lane road cut between two rock-based hedgerows when a disarticulated lorry (Americans will read semi) is hurtling at you downhill around a curve while using 3/4 of a road as wide--exactly--as two compact cars. When the center line is absent it means the road is literally less than the width of two compact cars.
6. Backing around a corner. It is illegal here to back into a main road, but perfectly legal, and expected, to back into a side road from a main road. Don't let questions of whizzing traffic on the mainly two-lane 60 mph main roads concern you; they don't. But I'm telling you, one has to have a gene for this.

To take them in order and deal with them as Ryan, the good instructor, has done:

1. Easy-peasy, he said. He's so unworried about it, he's not even going to bother with it until right before the test. OK. I'll agree with him on that. There's a formula. Plus--which at least makes me feel better--he says it's nuts. "Who would actually do that?" he wondered aloud. "You usually want the back of the car to the rear so you can load the groceries in the boot (Americans will read trunk.)

2. Three-point turn. No, you don't really need to take 22-minutes as the bad instructor said. But The Exorcist head twirl is a requirement. You can actually touch the curb with the wheels and not fail, as long as there is no human or dog in sight along that pavement (Americans will read sidewalk). So you might as well plan on not going back or pulling forward that far ever; as it happens, you can take five, or even seven, "points" to do the turn--as long as you don't fail the head twirl or bump a curb when a person is within the county.  (I think I can make up for this missing gene. OK, so in NY, you make the turn as fast as humanly possible so you don't get nailed in the side or honked at by some meshuginah putz or goombah.....But I can do this one. I can. Really.)

3. Nah, this was just too nuts, the figment of the bad instructor's imagination. If you crawl toward a roundabout that slowly, traffic will be backed up to Edinburgh. His attitude was based on the eco-driving move by the Driving Standards Agency, and is sometimes taught to brand new drivers--17-year-olds--because why not? Why not? Said Ryan, part of it is the block shifting, from fifth to second in one go. Although most newer cars will do it easily, some new drivers cannot--just plain cannot--do it, Ryan said. Maybe they lack the gene!

4. We haven't tackled this one yet. I just treat a stop sign like a stop sign; must be my stop sign gene kicking in. But I feel certain I can learn to creep or roll through it like so many BAD U.S. drivers do.

5. There is really only one thing to say about this:

OH, NOOOOOOOOOOO!

Ryan has worked with me on this from the beginning. And mainly, I now leave the foliage covering hedgerows where it is. Worst case: I will slow to a crawl and let the massive vehicle (Americans read huge truck) pass me rather than try to wedge both of us in there at once, with the obvious margin for error and possibly dire results, which is, as it happens, perfectly acceptable on the test. So at least somewhere, someone at the Driving Standards Agency knows the roads are bizarre.

 6. Backing around a corner. The reason for doing The Exorcist head twirl here is so there are no surprises, such as people plowing into you while you're on the corner, or backing into it or beyond it.

Indeed. No, we DON'T want surprises like that! But think how much less surprising it would be if we JUST DIDN'T FREAKING DO IT? I mean, how hard is it, especially in a small country, to go a few miles to the next town if need be, find a good turning place (a roundabout, a car park, a one-way system to bring you back around)? Or even turn while moving forward into a side street and then make a three-point turn? Even if it takes you 20 minutes, isn't that better than risking getting whacked two ways by BACKING FROM A MAIN ROAD INTO A SIDE ROAD?

OK. OK. I can see I need some serious gene therapy on that one to pass the UK Practical Driving Test.**

 * It would literally be rated at the national speed limit, which is 60 mph, because it is not in a built-up area. This means you CAN do 60, if conditions permit. Or if you have that gene. Most Americans have the gene that dictates not doing it for fear of dropping off the edge on one side or taking home some hedgerow on the other.

**Yes, using the word practical while demanding drivers learn to do perfectly things they will never do again is a little oxymoronic.

SPAM®. A lot.

YUM! And look how cheap; only one pound, seventy, or $2.72 on April 1, 2011. 

(SP Tiley Photo)

Sometimes, you just have to take a deep breath and admit something.

In the mid-1970s, I once had an enormous craving for SPAM®. I satisfied it. I bought some, fried it up, served it to my husband (who astonishingly had the same craving at the same time) with oven french fries that I tarted up with a small sprinkle of  oil and a large sprinkle of salt.

And then I went back to ridiculing SPAM®, and anyone who eats it…until I found out that not only does my sister-in-law like SPAM®, she has a SPAM® cookbook. A whole SPAM® cookbook. She once made me a dinner of stuffed SPAM®; I had asked for it, because some things one has to see to believe.

But here’s another guilty secret: My brother likes SPAM®. My own flesh and blood. He likes SPAM®. Not just in 1970-something. But today.

When we were exploring in Morrison’s Supermarket last week, Simon and I noticed a SPAM® product in the frozen section, and naturally took a picture of it. Not a good picture; all we had available was his cell phone, which predates the rise and fall of Constantinople. But we had to have it. The picture. The SPAM® Fritters stayed where they were.

While I was on the subject, though, I recalled that there is a SPAM® Museum. I looked it up, and, for good measure, checked out the first recipe in the recipe exchange section, Tomato Spasta*. It called specifically for SPAM® Classic. This led me to believe that there are now variations on SPAM®.

Sho ‘nuff. There’s SPAM® Lite; shoulda figured. But SPAM® with Cheese. Oh, mama.

Hot and Spicy SPAM®. And boon to all those who need the odd cocktail snack, SPAM® Spread. All you need is the crackers; might I suggest bona fide Saltines?

I saw nothing about SPAM® Fritters, though. Maybe they are only made for the European market. If you’re a SPAM® lover, you’re welcome to come visit. I’ll even drive you to Morrison’s; the road is really twisty, barely a car and a half wide, and steep with curves. Americans don’t like the road at all (it took me almost a year to learn to love it!). So I won’t make you drive it. Plus, I’ll let you use the stove, but that’s where I stop. You’ll have to cook the SPAM® yourself.

Though I may sneak a bite.

* I find this an unfortunate name for a recipe, especially for a frankenfood, for so many reasons.