Reporting A Right Royal Event.
BBC Scotland Journalist Bill Whiteford ponders over previous run ins with royalty ahead of The Royal Wedding and presenting the BBC Radio Scotland's coverage of the big day.
The two 100 metre square brick murals featuring the faces of Prince William and Catherine Middleton. Erected April 28, 2011 in Sydney.
Sometimes there's no sense asking "why me?" Why should I be picked to join Kaye Adams for BBC Radio Scotland's coverage of The Royal Wedding? The answer, like as not, would be "why not you?"
I can at least, by dint of nothing but age, remember past royal shindigs: the Wessex's, obviously; the York's (he's ages with me); and Charles & Di, of course. I can even, at a pinch recall Princess Anne's nuptials with Capt Mark Phillips (and her second shot, with Cmdr Tim Laurence, at Crathie).
But I've never had to cover them. Royal visits, yes. I remember traipsing round the newly-opened fish market in Aberdeen at the heels of the Queen and Princess Anne in 1982. I was a cub reporter for the local paper. The only memory now is that Princess Anne was very chatty with the workers, and played havoc with the timetable.
Then there was the fleeting visit of Diana, Princess of Wales, to Carlisle when I was a local radio reporter a couple of years later. A morning's preparation, a glimpse of the fabled young princess getting out of a car, and it was all but over. I thought she looked a bit stunned by all the madness.
I met Princess Margaret once at a reception. I was with a group of young men in kilts, when she seemed to make a beeline over to us, drink and fag in hand, for a chat. Very nice she was too.
But through the years I guess I've kept a bit of a distance from royal events. I've not, like some colleagues, ducked for cover when they come. Still, I've not sought them out either.
As a journalist it's easy to be cynical. Newsrooms are full of Cassandras: here we go again; the last generation didn't have a very good record; the mood of the nation is gloomy; it's bread and circuses. And yet, who can resist a wedding? It's not just the glamour and the glitz, the gleaming cuirasses and froufrou dresses... there's a challenge for a chap like me - describing a wedding dress. No, it's the optimism of a wedding, any wedding. It's young love, people on the brink of an exciting new life together. It's all to play for, maybe this time, a fairytale ending.
Whatever, I'm not about to rain on anyone's horse-guards parade. So bring it on. Give me your best shot of ceremonial. Plumes of feathers, ridiculous uniforms, Cockney knees-up street partie, puzzled Japanese tourists, Shetlanders celebrating in the Unst sleet, St Andrews academics raising a sherry, douce Edinburghers hitching up their skirts for a royal pavan.
We'll have it all, along with the wedding ceremony, from ten on Friday morning. I just hope Kaye brings the tissues.
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