Tally Ho! We're Off To The Royal Reception

The kids and I were mightily disappointed that our invitations to Katie and Willie's shindig got lost in the mail, but always open to an opportunity to party (and eat cake), we decided to crash their reception. Who else would lead the Chicken Dance if we weren't there?  So we parked the  little bus around the corner and  waited until the guys on the gin bottles had consumed enough royal punch to be more than a bit tipsy.[Aside: They also become very 'tippy'  when tipsy, what with those top-heavy fur hats; more fun than cow tipping and less work...just sayin'.] Then, with the kind of stealth that only 15 Ph.D. scientists and their sleep-deprived nanny can pull off , we stormed the gate.  There were a couple of tense moments when we discovered two of the Beefeaters upright, but found that we could easily distract them but asking "What WAS that thing Beatrice had on her head"?  While they were arguing about what it actually was, and if it constituted a significant breach in National Security, we slipped right by.

Oh the wonders!  We were formally announced and  addressed  by our Royal Wedding Names (Lord/Lady+Grandparent's name+one of your pet's names (of) your street)  like the Lords and Ladies we were. Lady Mildred Bentley of Talc, if you please! It says so on my royal sash!

The reception hall was stunning and the banquet tables were laden with a feast.

The cake was beautiful. (Bonus that it was a 'cake fail' for spelling 'Will' incorrectly!)

And the ginger ale toasts (we WERE on Company Time after all) were divine.

The kids were placated with the wedding bubble favors and were remarkably well behaved.

At least as well behaved as a bunch of folks who had crashed a high-security international event could be. If we got caught doing naughty things, we smiled, waved like a royal and said things like 'Pip pip', 'Pish Posh'  and 'Wasn't the cake simply smashing?' in our fake English accents. Worked out rather well.

Not all of us could make the trip across the pond. Although he couldn't be with us physically, he was with us in spirit...and in cyber space. That's Lord Arthur Pepper Dorian checking in from his home office.

And here he is in the portrait that hangs in the great hall of his estate. Isn't he dapper?

 We ate cake, drank toasts, chicken-danced and reveled until the morning light the changing of the guard when the newer, sober-er guards caught onto our little scheme.

We beat a hasty retreat to a lorry we had parked down by the river. We bailed into the boot and got safely away.  All in all it was a wonderful time. We have identified the kinks in our plans and will have them all worked out by the time it's Harry's turn.  Ta ta for now Duckies!