She didn't do a runner - The Big Day

And it was – from the early hours of the morning. The streets were quiet and telecasts started some six hours before the actual wedding! It was a bit like Grand Final Day in Melbourne, but without any football.

I watched it, in between playing ball with Hamish outside and sending emails.

I caught one of the seemingly endless documentaries on the couple first. She seems very nice, complete with that sort of serious, intense way of talking about life the French seem to have. I don’t know that much about him, except he speaks English perfectly. Unfortunately for Marie, I don’t think she speaks Danish at all yet (good luck!) and already there are calls for the people’s preference for Danish to be the language of the house at Shackenborg Castle, their home. If that becomes law, I dare say it’s going to be a very quiet old castle for the next year or so. I read one report that said the Prince Consort (French originally himself) ‘speaks Danish’, as if to say there’s no reason for Marie not to. True enough, except poor Henrik cops a flogging over his Danish constantly – and he’s lived here for 40-something years!

About the wedding:

The village of Møgeltønder was transformed into a fairytale village (naturally, enough) for the day, and it did look quaint.

I admit there is something about seeing people done up in uniforms, medals and tiaras but I really did find it odd seeing women wearing them (the Queen’s sisters, I think) and waving from a big bus. Yes, they arrived by bus. It somehow looked like two polarised pieces of life coming together clumsily and one I won’t forget soon.

The groom was supported by his two young sons. Both handsome kids, although the elder one needs to have his ears pinned back or he could be in for trouble at school. They, with all their under 7 or 8 years of life, looked suitably calm, in control and serious next to their father who looked more and more nervous as time went on. He dropped down frequently to whisper in the ear of the eldest little boy who nodded his head in agreement over whatever his father was saying. This happened a lot, and I think it was more that Joachim had to do something other than just stand there, than actually had anything much to say.

I guess the key to a good wedding is romance and emotion and the Danes supplied. When the bride (I think the dress was nice??) walked in, Joachim’s face filled with tears and, indeed, he had to lower his head and wipe his eyes but managed to smile at the same time. It was one of those movements you couldn’t do if someone gave you instructions.

There was lots of singing and lots of (rather quick) Danish from the jolly priest but it was a bit too much for Joachim’s younger son who took a bit of a kip for a while.

Marie’s father wiped away tears during Ave Maria as did the Crown Princess of Norway. I spilt a glass of orange juice over the coffee table.

Before we knew it, the “Ja’s” had been said and we had a new princess.

They turned from the alter, gave a deep bow and curtsey to the Queen – in itself quite moving for some reason, and made their way down the aisle to bobs and bows from the congregation.

Most impressive was their exit into a vintage Bugati that let of the biggest cloud of smoke as it started up and moved away to start their endless fun-filled years together – providing Marie learns Danish, of course!

But I have a few questions…

Who was the haughty young, tall, very blonde girl in the, from memory, long blue dress? She was with the royal set but no one I recognised.

Similarly, there was an older, rather angry looking women, who walked in with two dark-haired young guys (also in the royal set)? I wouldn’t like to get on here wrong side! Who was she?

For some pics, click here