The carnival is over – the King’s Coronation camping disaster/adventure, when I promised my husband and three kids a front-row seat to witness history.
We made the long trip to London to see all the King’s horses and all the King’s men (and more importantly, Kate and William) trot down The Mall on the way to Westminster in THAT golden carriage.
As a royal super fan, it was my dream to do this, and it was the best of times and the worst of times.
We ‘camped’ for 34 hours and we did achieve that rare front-row spot.
But … it came with a future therapy bill and lots of hard work and shivering.
We arrived the day before the big event at 5am in the dark.
We whacked our Aldi $25 tarp on the ground, bunged on our Australian (made in China) cork hats and claimed our little square of royal land.
Things were going well until it started to rain and we soon realised we couldn’t all huddle under the tarp and keep dry in our $2 plastic ponchos.
The lovely British women next to us set us straight.
They were dressed like they were going on a duck hunt.
So, hubby ran to Piccadilly to buy a three-person tent for our five people, and 10 gin and tonics for the two adults.
Solid camping supplies.
The crowd was growing.
I started to ban eating and drinking because the port-a-loos were such a long hike away.
An elderly woman left her bag hanging unattended near our tent and, next minute, the bomb squad surrounded us.
I couldn’t make this stuff up.
Daylight finally came.
We were ordered to pack down the tent to make room for the crowd: one million people crammed into The Mall and most of them pushing into our backs for a front-row spot.
“Hold your ground, kids,” I bellowed.
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Before this royal sojourn, my kids thought a crowd was a line-up waiting for Maccas at Kawana.
They were hungry and cold and ready to vote to join the republic.
But on we waited until, finally, King Charles and Camilla and Wills and Kate trotted by and threw their disciples from the realm of Australia a royal wave.
We all screamed with excitement and wiped away the water from our eyes – rain, not tears.
I turned to my kids and husband and declared we had achieved our mission and one day they would all thank me.
In return, they flipped me ‘the bird’ with their cold and blue hands
Sami Muirhead is a radio announcer, blogger and commentator. For more from Sami, tune into Mix FM.
