The Big Day is Here. Actually it’s not Here, it’s Over There, where you all get to Wave Flags (if you so desire) and get a Day Off (which I’m sure you won’t say no to). I however will need to be up at some unroyal hour to watch it all on telly, and then go to work wondering how many street parties will end in flashing blue sirens. Hopefully not too many. As I can’t get out onto the British streets to draw all the Union Jack bunting (that sounds like a boxer, doesn’t it), I decided to draw Will and Kate in my Moleskine diary. Will has rather a long face in this, but that’s ok. One day he’ll be literally on the money, and money has to stretch (seriously, that’s the best ‘long face’ joke I could come up with?). Kate Middleclass will be joining the Royals and a life of tabloid front pages, and I wish her all the best. I wish both of them all the best, actually; I’m quite sentimental about this royal wedding lark.

I still remember that big one thirty years ago (who was that for again?). We had a street party in my small Burnt Oak street, and I still recall the little plastic union jacks we waved furiously all day, sat on long tables in the street with my neighbours the Glennons, the Smiths, the Daniels, the Jamesons. There were lots of kids in my street back then. I was only a scruffy-haired five-year-old, eating cake and drinking cherryade. I remember that the grown-ups played games in the street, such as the race that my dad won against the other dads, with me on piggyback. It was fun, simple non-cynical fun, and I hope that everyone having street parties today keeps those same memories thirty years from now. Or of course you can drink yourself silly, and that’s fun too.