While the rest of the world is obsessed with the pre-wedding jitters of poor Kate and the intrigue surrounding her dress designer, the only person I can think about is the wedding planner. I know there is one, it's not remotely possible to pull this off without one, but, she's in hiding, I'm sure her contract dictates anonymity.
Lets call the poor thing "Doris".
Having not slept since Tuesday in the midst of organizing place cards and fielding calls from guests, who somehow have obtained her cell phone number and want to know if it's going to rain Friday; and what precisely are the transportation arrangements from the church to Buckingham Palace; and can she do something about upgrading their nasty hotel room; and what in the world are they supposed to do in the five hours between receptions?
She is having one hell of a week.
Picture her final family meeting Friday evening. Michael Middleton answers the door to the suite at the Goring: "Why hi there Doris, come have a spot of Champers with us before dinner -- let's go over it all once more, shall we?"
"Do you mind, if I spend a moment with Pippa and talk about all the kids in the ceremony again?" Doris attempts.
"Oh Jeez, Doris," Pippa sneers, "Do you think I'm a moron? I've been babysitting since I was 10 -- what is the bloody problem?"
"Well there's so many of them and I just want to make sure they don't run amok under your supervision; now, can we also talk about Harry for a moment? I just have a funny feeling he's planning something, don't you James?"
Kate's brother looks up startled, "Well isn't that what we've got you here for? To keep anything from happening; to keep everyone on their toes, so to speak?"
Mrs Middleton enters: "There will be a separate seamstress there for me, correct, we did order one, right? I'm truly worried about the back slit in my gown, and trust me, they are all just waiting for me to look stupid."
"Yes, of course I've got her. My job is to make sure that everyone has a lovely, memorable and perfect day, and I intend to make that happen," Doris sighs.
Kate enters the room. "Why, hi Doris! They torturing you a bit?"
"No, no it's fine, I'm just a bit concerned that all the seating isn't finished yet, and if I don't let Camilla in on the Queen's final changes, she will have my head."
"Damn Camilla. She bloody well thinks this is Her wedding! She's not even Will's mum, barely a step-mum actually; you really should put her in her place, you know Doris? It's all really a bit much don't you think?"
Avoiding the question, Doris turns to James,
"James, do you have a moment for me? I realize this isn't really my job but I feel so close to you after the last couple of months with the family and all the planning, I just want to mention again, that you and Harry should really give it a go on not drinking very much on Friday, you know, all the press around... "
James looks at Doris with disgust, "Good God, did my mother put you up to this? I got it -- no drinking, OKAY?!"
Her cell rings with a call from Camilla who requests an audience. Racing over to see her with an assistant, she's accosted by Charles as soon as she arrives: "...really could use some help on this toast here Doris -- I mean really, it's not as if there's so much to say about her; I mean, she's pretty but... and you know if I don't include a line about how blissfully happy Camilla and I are there'll be no peace around here."
"And do I have to mention that Middleton pitched in some cash? It's not as if we asked for it you know, and it seems so, so -- well you know, so damn middle-class."
Camilla sweeps in. "Oh there you are Doris, thought we'd lost you. Can we go over this photo line-up once again? I really don't want a load of the 'evil step mum posing with the gorgeous couple' shots; and I definitely don't want to be standing next to 'seatbelts fastened' in any of the photos at all, got it? Oh, and please dear, can we keep Harry's friend that -- Chelsey girl -- from being in the formal shots? I mean, really, it's not as if they are going to stay together and it's such a nuisance to cut people out afterwards. And you won't forget about my portraits with my granddaughter in her maids dress? She will be just too adorable... "
The next morning will be even worse, lugging a U-Haul-sized emergency kit filled with additional crystals for Kate's dress, extra feathers for all the absurd fastenings the girls will be wearing, double stick tape for décolletage mishaps. She will be at the church giving arrival updates to the Prince; she will be the only one who can get under the dress and hold it up so Kate can use the loo beforehand; and to figure out how to stuff the massive train into the carriage to the Palace afterwards so it doesn't asphyxiate Will on the way.
She'll be signaling Charles on when to cut in on the first dance and gently grabbing Harry to dance with his brother's new mother-in-law; and ascertaining how to cut reasonably symmetrical pieces out of a chocolate biscuit cake. And, you can be sure, that when all the guests are tucked in for the night and the newlyweds are sleeping peacefully she will be the one on her hands and knees at the floor of Buckingham Palace looking for a guest's lost heirloom earring.