One was indeed.

Was it just me, or did anyone else feel like they were grappling with that dreaded feeling usually reserved for when you've been summoned to a potentially explosive gathering of extended family?

Anticipating these events is like waiting for root canal surgery.

I can hear my Mum's strict instructions from back in the day: "Look, it will just be a few hours. If your cousins or uncles wind you up, don't get all mouthy. It upsets your Nan."

But, back to the royal blitz in London.

Thanks to a timely case of COVID, one royal landmine, Prince Andrew, was defused. But there was another threat looming with the arrival of the special guests from the US.

I did feel a bit anxious when Harry and Meghan got out of the Rolls Royce and there were a few audible "boos" from the crowd. Ignoring the frosty greeting, the couple managed to make it up the steps of St Paul's, only to be shoved in the freezer via a dodgy seating arrangement. How impertinent. Oprah will be hearing about this.

I found great comfort in Paddington Bear's appearance, but it was short-lived. Where did all those people in The Mall come from? There were a gazillion mad dogs (corgis) and Englishmen (and women) jostling in the midday sun for a glimpse of the Queen.

The scene looked like Ground Zero for the next pandemic, but that wasn't my main concern. What if you were in the middle of that heaving tide of humanity and needed to go?

Like, needed to visit the throne room? Were there Portaloos? Also, if you wandered off for a wee break, how would you find your way back to your mates? What could you use as a reference point?

I'm not sure that "just look for the Union Jack held aloft" would set you right.

I felt much better when night fell and I knew everyone had returned to their bedsits.

Parade day dawned, along with more distant anxiety. But my prince arrived, in the form of little Louis. As the world watched the Queen's life flash before her eyes atop a few crowded London buses, Louis' behaviour took an obstreperous turn.

I'm not known for defending any member of the royal family, but Louis had good reason to be fed up. He was humiliated earlier when he was forced to wear a sailor's suit while his siblings wore clothes from the 21st century. Then, the four-year-old had to front up again for a parade that had little to recommend it after the Teletubbies had passed.

But, give the kid a break. He was seated in front of Boris Johnson. As we found out a few hours later, many of the PM's Tory colleagues would also prefer to not be in his company.

The Louis crisis was averted when he shuffled off to sit on his Grandfather's lap.

I relaxed and made myself a gin and tonic. I really shouldn't have worried. It turned out to be a jolly good knees-up.

That said, I haven't got that long until I start getting antsy about the Queen's 100th birthday.

Families: they're a royal pain in the neck.

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