A guide to Royal Stalking

Last week I went royal stalking on Prince Will and Duchess Kate's first proper day of being publicly viewed in Canberra, under the guise of being a monarchist.  This is apparently what we people do when there is monarchy in town.

Royal stalking, like any stalking, is really quite hard work.  It requires stamina, persistence, a continued elevated level of interest and lots of elbowing of little old ladies.  I just don't think I'm committed enough to care that much, so it was a lot of hard yakka.

Elbowing little old ladies may seem rather mean spirited to you, but most of them are not really as fragile as they claim to be.  When it comes to the royals, most of these women turn into menacing witches who will dupe you out of a premium spot at any opportunity.  They are tough as nails and know exactly how to worm their way to the front of the crowd by dropping a series of phrases that make you feel like a monster for being younger than them.

It's not my fault that I'm not 862 years old.  I'm so sorry that I wasn't born in the 12th century, but being old doesn't give you a front row seat.  You should have arrived earlier.

I "caught up with" the royals at Canberra's Portrait Gallery, the only place I could be bothered going to.  See, no commitment.  When they did eventually come out of the painted faces place they were greeted by lots of flashing cameras, baby girls with flower posies, big burly security men and the assorted other interesting/uninteresting folk that travel in and/or stalk a royal motorcade.

Kate was wearing a lovely shade of Kermit the Frog green so bright I had to wear my shades.  Fortunately she decided against wearing the bright yellow number she donned on her arrival in Australia that meant everyone had to look directly at the sun.  Bit of a public health nuisance, is the duchess.  I've still got white spots on my eyeballs.  I guess it was fortunate that she didn't wear it in England - it would confuse the hell outta the British.