So: the Coronation. Not quite everything that one might have liked in an ideal world – obviously not nearly enough ermine – but certainly not as disappointing or lacklustre as might have been feared in some quarters. I think I may now be in love with HRH the Princess of Wales and possibly also the redoubtable and Rt Hon Penny Mordaunt MP. St Jude, patron saint of hopeless causes, pray for this poor son of thine.
Three cheers for the various heraldic Kings of Arms for turning out in full fig, complete with cream breeches and acanthus-leaf crowns. I will never understand the aversion to hats, and the same applies to birettas. If one’s already got a funny costume, the headgear really isn’t going to make much of a difference. When Our Lord hands round the crowns in heaven, who’s going to say no?
