Like Buttercup in William Goldman’s tale, Kate Middleton is not royal, but a commoner. She is patient. And she is beautiful. Unlike Buttercup, it looks like she will marry her prince, and happily. This morning’s news from London of her engagement to Prince William of Wales is a big deal in Britannia and the colonies. There are churlish louts who grumbled about the news coverage, and to them I’d just point out the wars and crimes will carry on long after the BBC’s wall-to-wall reportage on the royal engagement ends.



Weddings are about the future, but this particular wedding will also be about the past: the failed fairy tale of the prince’s parents, Charles and Diana.



It’s estimated 750-million people watched that ill-fated union 29 years ago. How many will watch next year, and how many of those will hope for a happier ending?

It’s been widely reported that Prince William and Kate Middleton have dated, on and off, for the last eight years. They roomed together in college, and so presumably have seen each other in their scuffy slippers and ratty bathrobes. He’s grown up guarded against the glare of paparazzi; she’s had to build up that shell as a young adult. Unlike his parents, there seems to be a grounding in friendship that may allow them to beat the odds that the most ordinary couples face.

Any wedding is an act of extreme optimism, a statement that no matter what has come before, two souls have chosen to look to the future, together. They are royal to each other.

So the live team coverage is silly. But this isn’t just about the crown’s need for heirs. It’s about our need for a happy ending, our knowledge that it’s awfully hard to come by, and our decision to celebrate all the same.