Poosey Digest: Post-wedding get-together

“Herb, did you check the mail?”

“Yep.”

“Check it again.”

“Freida, the mail only comes once a day. There’s no need for me to walk up to the post office to look at an empty box.”

“You might have missed something the first time.”

“I miss nothing, Freida. I have eyes like a hawk.”

“Where are you glasses?”

“I don’t know. Can’t find them.”

I’ve been patient, I truly have. I’ve checked the mail every day for the last couple of months. I’ve not complained, I didn’t make a single phone call. I just sat here… and waited.

The Royal Wedding has now come and gone and here I sit, still anticipating the arrival of my official invitation. I’ve not changed my address in 40 years so it’s not like Prince William and Kate could have sent my invite somewhere else. And in case the royal couple are reading my column over a plate of regal tea and crumpets this morning, let me say that if there was some sort of mix-up and they’d like to invite Herb and I over for a little post-wedding get-together, I’d be agreeable. I’d be glad to help her open wedding gifts and I’d even bring my cinnamon rolls.

Of course there’s a chance that Bill and Kate aren’t aware of just how close the Crumps are to the Windsor family. The Queen once waved at me. I’m not kidding. We were standing outside Buckingham Palace in ‘79 when her royal limousine parted the crowds of tourists and came buzzing into the courtyard. Yes, I realize that I was six rows back in the crowd and standing behind what looked like a team of NBA players from Australia, but I saw her wave and knew that she waving at me.

Any groom knows that he should invite his grandmother’s closest friends to his wedding. On two other occasions I’ve stood in front of the palace’s front gates and waved at what I’m sure was the Queen’s bedroom window. That makes three direct contacts with the Queen and still no invitation!

Last week I politely asked our local postmaster if he’d check around to see if an envelope with a royal seal might have fallen onto the floor. He said he’d look.

I can only imagine how embarrassed I’d be if I left someone near and dear to me off my Christmas card list, so in order to save the newlyweds the humiliation, I sent the following this morning:

“Dear Bill and Kate,

This is Freida, a good friend of your grandmother’s. I was the one who she waved to back in June of 1979 and who she’s greeted on two other occasions from what I’m pretty sure was her bedroom window. It was early in the morning so I didn’t knock.

I know you’ve been busy. Weddings take time and we can all be forgiven if we forget a thing or two – like inviting me to the wedding.

I just wanted to tell you that Herb and I would be available to come and visit once you return from your honeymoon. Aside from my close ties to your family, I’d like to hand deliver the cutest little package of knickknacks that I picked up at Bath and Body Works. Of course we’d gladly stay for supper.

Again, please don’t feel embarrassed at what was surely an innocent mistake on the part of your secretaries. From what I saw on TV you had invited a few other folks, too, and I’m sure that our invite simply got lost in all the royal bustle.

Your friend, Freida.

p.s. Come to think of it, this could work out even better. You’ll have more time after the wedding to sit and chat.”

Of course I have a plan B. I don’t know whether the American custom of holding a chivaree has made it to the shores of Great Britain, but I’m thinking this might be a dandy time to start. It won’t take me long to gather a few friends with noisemakers to sneak up on Buckingham Palace late at night. Now to figure out a way to get the shotguns through British Customs…

You ever in Poosey, stop by. We may not answer the door but you’ll enjoy the trip.