T'was a day hell bent on being swathed in red, white and blue. And who am I to argue with co-ordination on a national level?
As I have mentioned, I was a little over excited. Perhaps it was the happy occasion, the street party I was planning to attend or the evening BBQ that had been in the diary for a month.
Or, more likely, it was the utter cake fail of the night before, surpassed by the cake win of the wedding morning. Yep, my wedding breakfast consisted of cake. Well - you have to test these things! More on that later...
And a bit of a hair-whoop! I have been experimenting with proper brushing out and this is my second attempt. I have to say, I was rather pleased. If I can do it and make it look moderately passable, anyone can.
I had been watching the event unfold from 8am and although the weather was a bit naff to begin with, I was not going to let that dampen my mood. It was a (for most us) national holiday and I was in proper holiday spirit. I could not wait to see the Memorial Flight pass over. Yep - you read that right. The fly over. Not the dress. It was lovely and all that, but it was not what I was glued to the screen for. In fact, I was mainly sitting outside my chums house, enjoying a street party to which I did not belong.
I have no idea of how many people were there and I have to say that I felt a bit of an impostor, considering I was not a resident. But I was assured by said chums that all was well and I should enjoy myself in the Union flag festooned festivities.
I had not felt that patriotic in a good long while and I have to say, it felt goooood! I had not attended a street party since the 50th anniversary of VE Day in 1995 and Royal Wedding Day came a close second to that. Every one was smiling. Every one was being friendly and chatty. I know that it is, quite possibly, a rose tinted way to think about days past, but I got a real sense of that very same street having had many a street party in it's day, and the exact same scene being played out.
We even had our own balcony! With it's own Royalty. I have a sneaking suspicion that this house might have won the "Best Dressed House" competition.
And then we moved on to the BBQ where my friend's home made strawberry liqueur was being heartily mixed with Pimms. And inhaled by me. Who had decided her hair was too flat on her head and so had fashioned a roll using only one strategically placed pin. A total and utter fluke, which I am sure shall never be repeated.
The evening ended with me watching the WHOLE event AGAIN on the box over a large slab of cake fail. Ahh yes. I had better tell you about that. It came down to the rookie, and frankly unforgivable bakery error of using 2 different sized cake tins. Which meant that the Victoria Sponge I had whipped up looked bloomin' ridiculous. So I had to make another in the morning of the wedding.
Making butter icing is a treacherous task when one attempts the mixing with an electric whisk. The time I saved using a "labour saving device", I lost in the mopping up!
But it was worth it. As I have to say, I am the most proudest of this cakeage. And for that I thank the Great British Cookbook recipe I used. I shall never use another. It was light and airy and wolfed down by the BBQ guests.
And this is the colossal bottom half of the cake fail. I had, in my frenzy of trying to convince my eyes they were mistaken, decided to plough on. Hence the covering of butter icing and jam. Alas, it was not to be. So we decided to keep it.
For about a day.