Not on the short list
Perhaps the post office slipped up, I thought. The envelope containing my invite to the nups hasn’t arrived, but delays are part of life in the colonies. Ocean crossings and all. Except that the official list of guests has been released and I can’t find my name (or anyone else that I call a close personal relative) among the anointed. Time to cancel the tux rental.
I did notice that Galen (the TV guy that sells concept groceries in both official languages) will be there, so I’ll just wait to see if he adds any new product lines over the summer. Stuff like royal relish, or princely potato tots. That’s what successful entrepreneurs do.
Joss (she does so have a great voice) will be there, and Guy (Mr. Madonna in an earlier iteration) is going; maybe they’ll share a seat, or a song. Elton can riff on the harpsichord. Mr. Bean (a close friend of the groom’s father) has promised to “make a face or two” in honour of the occasion.
Lot of military (squaddies?); guess that the prince wants to make sure the gang from work is represented. Will this require a special detachment of MPs, in case of some internal infighting at the party after the reception? And do the Beckham pair still count as Brits, given that he works in Spain, or LA? Is soccer/football really work?
My copy of the List is marked as “not exhaustive”. Maybe I’d better hang on to that tux reservation for a few more days. Better safe than sorry missing at the wedding.
