Of a banquet on the eve of Elizabeth’s coronation, Richard Crossman noted in his diary that “the food was cold and not very good”. Traditionally, indifferent cuisine is a celebrated feature of royal occasions. Like some of Charles’s recent walkabouts, the dish has been regarded as a good use of leftover eggs. It feels somehow apt that the official dish selected by King Charles is a quiche, given quiches are often wet and almost always disappointing. Photograph: James Manning/PAīack on the official channels, strong efforts are being made to get people excited about the approved royal menu for their subjects’ day. The official coronation quiche at a lunch hosted by the archbishop of Canterbury at Westminster abbey, London, 18 April 2023. Hand on heart, the Express and others do an awfully good job of suggesting otherwise. In a 24-hour period last Friday, shortly after Harry’s attendance was confirmed, the Daily Express website featured a full 44 articles about the Sussexes, one of which suggested the couple’s brand was “on life support”. Or perhaps, mindful about what happened at Sleeping Beauty’s christening, His Majesty’s Press these days regard it as part of their solemn duty to hold every royal guest list to the very highest scrutiny, lest their readers end up being put to sleep for a hundred years by failure to cover the potential fallout from any NFIs. Perhaps newspapers back then were made of stronger stuff. Did the newspapers of the time wet their pants daily for several months about this minor detail of the day? It feels unlikely. Back in 1953, the Duke of Windsor (Edward VIII as was) got told by Winston Churchill not to attend. Queen Elizabeth II’s coronation was scheduled to avoid a racing fixture this one was timetabled firmly for Harry and Meghan’s son’s fourth birthday. If newspaper stories were any guide to what the public wanted, it would seem rather notable that Andrew’s presence or non-presence at his brother’s crowning were of far, far less feverish concern than that of the Sussexes. Once again one has to contrast the apparently undimmable ire directed at Meghan and Harry with the muted version enjoyed by Prince Andrew, who last year paid millions in an out-of-court settlement to a woman who had long accused him of sexual abuse when she was 17, after she was trafficked by his good friend Jeffrey Epstein. Turning up would be an act of war non-attendance will garner endless headlines about insulting behaviour and “what she’s missing”. The whole interminable saga is afflicted by more than a touch of the Schrödinger’s invitation, with a yes/no able to be both right and wrong at the same time, if likely to induce fatal error one way or the other. If the Sussexes had any sense, “they would have accepted immediately”, explained the Mail’s Sarah Vine, about three paragraphs after saluting the “collective sigh of relief” that Meghan would not be attending. Royal experts, pro and amateur, act like they’d be lost without them. For a couple we keep hearing are no longer important, the Sussexes do still seem to be the only subject in town. Surely the one interesting thing about King Charles isn’t his fractured relationship with his younger son? And yet, the tale of the column inches seems to suggest it might be. This event is so inspiring and generational and monumental that the sole thing people can get truly worked up about is how their worst person in the world isn’t coming to it. In the meantime you have to ask: how confidence-inspiring, really, is any event that has thus far been defined by about 4,000 articles (and counting) about the attendance or non-attendance of a couple of guests? Nothing says “we’re bigger than that and have moved on” like obsessing over the social plans of two California residents. If you are one of the lucky Brits selected by lottery to receive a GP appointment before the big day, do consider purchasing it and popping your medication in it. There will always be new mugs, of course, and the Royal Collection is currently selling a coronation tankard for £50, as well as such essentials as a £40 bone-china coronation pillbox finished in 22-carat gold, possibly in keeping with King Charles’s oft-stated mission to modernise the monarchy. I wonder where that mug is now (the cup, not the woman). “I love how down to earth they are,” she said. I n the week before Harry and Meghan’s wedding I watched a woman in the Kensington Palace shop buy a mug that featured the entwined initials of the couple and retailed at £39.
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