Sunday is May 1st, the international worker's day, and I've been told to take cash out of the bank prior to Friday because all of the businesses are going to board up their doors and windows to prevent them from being smashed during the ensuing riots. Neat-o.
Tomorrow I'll be watching the royal wedding on my computer as I work. I remember when Charles and Diana got married, so I guess I'm kind of sentimental about it. I was 7 years old and got up at 5 in the morning so I could watch the entire thing. The carriages and costumes captivated my imagination and I drew British beef eaters and palace guard pictures for months afterwords.
And then there's this: Back in '78 my mother and father went to the UK for a vacation*. It was only a year or so after my younger brother's birth and my mother's hip was still a little out-of-wack from it. I guess my parents and some friends of theirs had walked a lot that day through London, and suddenly my mother's hip started giving her trouble. My father and their friends tried to help her along as best they could, but it was slow going and they didn't really know what to do. There were no cabs in sight on the busy London streets, and it was during rush hour. Then, out of no where a cab pulled up beside them and the driver rolled down his window. "The Queen noticed you from her window and requested that you be given a ride." So they got a ride back to their hotel and didn't have to pay, courtesy of the Queen of England.
*My grandmother watched us kids while my parents were away.