wedding dress

Yet seeing Prince William and Kate together, as natural and relaxed as it’s possible to be in the frankly quite terrifying flashbulb glare of the world’s media, I was - at the risk of sounding soppy, or worse, middle-aged - suffused with genuine pleasure.

I noted her shiny hair and that sedate-yet-curvaceous blue knee-length Issa wrap dress complimented by the sapphire ring. How he looked reassuringly manly and didn’t clumsily (and tellingly) mumble anything about “whatever love is” when asked about his feelings for his future wife. Instead, they looked so darned happy that ping! David Cameron’s new Well Being Index shot up and hit the bell like a fairground high striker.

And you know, when Kate referred to William “looking after her” so well, I could have yelled at the television, waved a copy of The Female Eunuch and castigated her lack of feminist credentials. But I didn’t.

Instead, once I’d made a note to check the Issa website for her dress, I felt rather pleased that Waity Katy hadn’t hung around for years (and years) for nothing and a teensy bit regretful that I met my husband in the Girl Power 80s when Sisters Were Doing it For Themselves and anybody caught in the (traitorous) act of looking after anybody else was burned at the stake for crimes against political correctness.

The truth is, We All Love A Good Wedding. Well, all of us Who Are Already Married do. There’s something heart-warming about watching two people make serious vows in these trivial times, no matter who they are.

In our modern throwawayculture, fatuousness, disposability and ennui have been elevated to the epitome of all that is cool. So no wonder this simple, entirely unironic expression of love, partnership and commitment makes younger generations feel uncomfortable - there’s no gag, no punchline, no smartarse soundbite.

Does it make me sound old when I admit I felt sad when Charlotte Church and Gavin Henson crashed and burned? I was even downcast when Lennie Henry and Dawn French were cleft asunder, even though I find them both execrably, assininely unfunny.

Marriage isn’t easy, which is one reason why it’s so darned important. Look at the statistics and every trip down the aisle, no matter how hallowed or historic the church, how big the meringue frock, how tiny the flowergirls, represents a triumph of hope over expectation - just look at the royals’ own recent track record.

William and Kate both seem to be decent young people. Just last week, as rumours of an engagement gained a hold, I visited the Berkshire village where the Middleton family lives. Kate was repeatedly described as lovely and bubbly and engaging by everyone whom I met. So repeatedly in fact, that I had to scour a thesaurus in a bid to find alternatives.

Her single mistake up to now was perhaps not so much being at her boyfriend’s beck and call as appearing to be so. The partners of high profile people who are subject to all manner of demands on their time, know full well that for a relationship to work, something - or realistically, someone - has to give.

But now the longeurs are finally over and we can look forward to a little injection of frivolity into austerity Britain. Royalty is part of the warp and weft of the national fabric; at a cellular level we’re primed to respond to the thrill of the pageantry, the pomp and circumstance. Why pretend otherwise?

And while Charles and Diana may have been more glamorous, let us not forget that the heir’s subsequent marriage to Camilla Parket Bowles was met with an unexpected display of jubilation - more muted of course, given the backdrop to their wedding - but jubilation nonetheless.

Prince William and his bride-to-be have pledged to live quietly, blamelessly in Angelsey, where presumably there will be a helipad for those weekend outings to Mahiki and school-night cocktails in Kitts off Sloane Square (Kate’s favourite haunt, apparently).

Or maybe not. The pair may plan to forgo the Boujis Nights for the forseeable future and embark on the heir and the spare as soon as the last chord of the Wedding March has died away.

All mothers somehow feel entitled to pass crass-and-inappropriate comments on the begetting of other people’s babies, so forgive me, but it’s been ages since we cooed over a proper royal scion, and (sorry about this) Peter Phillips’ infant, due in December, doesn’t really count, now does it? It might make the pages of Hello, but I fear, no further.

But listen to me, I’m rather getting ahead of myself - see, that’s what a huge sparkly engagement ring does to a girl, even if she only sees it on BBC News on some other woman’s finger.

Would it be so wrong to bow to the inevitable and throw ourselves into the whole frothy gypsophila excitement of it all ? Let’s be honest, we could all do with a welcome distraction and Famous People Tying the Knot is a tried-and-tested update of the panem et circenses formula so astutely deployed in ancient Rome.

And talking of astuteness, perhaps Prince William was in fact desperate to plight his troth years ago but conscientiously - heroically - held on for the double dip to get down on one knee and, ergo, raise our spirits, if not our economic fortunes.

So let’s prepare to settle down for a lengthy gossip about the gown, the veil, the honeymoon and whether Kate’s entrepreneurial Party Pieces parents will be providing themed goodie bags for all the heads of state. I’m sure Robert Mugabe would love a monster pencil with eraser.

And there’s more; Westminster Abbey or St Paul’s? Who will make the all-important front rows? Will Cherie Blair wangle an invitation and then auction it on E-Bay?

I confidently predict there will be no end to the permutations of merriment for months to come. So let’s raise a cheer, and indeed a glass, for William and Kate as they celebrate their engagement - and in so doing, add immeasurably to the gaiety of the nation.