Yesterday, after a big night out and a headache, I soothed myself with three back to back documentaries on Kate and William’s love story, as it’s their wedding anniversary today.
So freaking cheesy, I loved it. I even cried when Kate and Will talked to the dying man in Canada for extra time than was scheduled.
I mean what do you say to a dying man, ‘Hey, listen, I’m running out of time, so I can’t stay but it was nice to meet you?’
Yeah, maybe they were tired tears, but it was remarkable watching the evolution of Kate into the rail thin, groomed and glossy girl we know now.
Yes, I am aware of Hilary Mantel’s speech about her, read here if you haven’t already, and I actually agree with most of it, and not in any way do I think this is a diss on Kate. It’s a discussion about how the media portray’s the royals and how we, the public feed on the pictures.
I am guilty as anyone else, as I watched those stupid shows yesterday and will look at the pictures in the Daily Mail online (the scourge of all news).
When I see her being human at the Warner Brothers in London, I smile at her cheesy acting with the wand, and laughing at William on the Batcycle. I like her, well, what I see of her.
But what else are we to do?
In a world filled with Kardashian’s and their constant needy narcissism, of course we gravitate to the girl most likely.
This is the girl who grew up having to unpack the dishwasher and feed the guinea pigs. There is something so incredibly ordinary about Kate Middleton, despite her Erdem gowns and blown out hair, that you can connect with. If she’s shopping at Waitrose for a chicken to roast, or moving in with her mum when she has the baby for a few weeks, she is trying to hang onto normality or what’s left, and for this, I applaud her.