(...)
The service was beautiful. We were close to the front. The only sign that we had been joined by 160 million others watching on their televisions was the distant roar of the crowd when the couple kissed. That gave me goosebumps. It was a reminder that this was no ordinary wedding.
We were transported to the reception at Buckingham Palace on coaches. It felt like being on a school trip, except that our phones were sealed into security bags and checked into a cloakroom. Yet it was surprisingly relaxed. I had a chat with Princess Anne about our trip to the island of St Helena and to then Prime Minister David Cameron about our favourite coffee shop in North Kensington (Adrianas). Over English sparkling wine, I spoke to the Middletons, and to Prince Charles about our shared passion for hedge laying.
There were jokes about receding hairlines in the speeches and Elton played the piano while we ate South Uist salmon.
It was at this point that Marina had a wobble and collapsed, feeling faint, onto a golden chair in a room full of Royals. It was surreal – and quite amusing. I held her hand as we walked downstairs to the garden for the most memorable part of the reception.
Prince Charles’s classic Aston Martin was waiting, complete with tin cans. Quite suddenly, Marina and I found ourselves surrounded by senior members of the Royal family (I was next to the Queen) as Catherine threw her bouquet. We chucked flower petals and rice as they drove away and I remember worrying that it might scratch the paintwork.
(...)
Several weeks after their wedding, we received a handwritten parcel containing a tin of cake from Prince Charles; the cake that is now in our safe.
Doesn’t time fly? It seems incredible that a decade has passed since the big day and since Iona, who had the good grace not to appear at the wedding itself, arrived just a few weeks later – almost exactly the same age as the slice of cake she will one day inherit.
