The weird thing about watching the highlights of a wedding is that you definitely know how it turns out. No need to avoid social media. The result can’t be ruined for you. Big church. White dress. The Beckhams. Sure.

Because of course I have tickets for a play when it’s actually happening. As though the best theatre possible isn’t being streamed live into my own home. And yeah, I thought about waiting and watching it on catch up but where’s the sense of occasion, you know?

A girl at work is hosting a party for it, she’s doing themed food and everything. Though she becomes a little bashful when I ask her what’s on the menu, what with me being English. I don’t want to tell you, she says, it’s really stereotypical. As though I might be offended by a scone.

Do you know them? says someone else.
Well I know him, but she’s American, I shoot back, playing into the role they’ve assigned for me.
But are you really into it? says a friend, a little incredulous.
And the truth is, I don’t really know.
I just like stuff that’s really bad, I say. Which is true.

I was in the southern hemisphere for the last royal wedding, too. The time difference is useful for not making awkward jokes about drinking at 11am. But people are going to talk about your nationality more than usual.

Tonight it’s just me and the Guardian website but seven years ago I went to a party. The guy in the off license scanned my cheap sparkling and said, You watching the wedding then?
Yeah, I said, wondering how it was so obvious.
Before looking down slowly at the plastic sceptre in my hand.

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A version of this post was sent by email on the 20th May 2018 as part of Internet Care Package.

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