Why I could not be there when Harry and Meghan said I do

I was most pleased and surprised to receive a Royally-stamped envelope the other day in the post – surprised because I have not had a letter, from anyone since December, and pleased because I thought ole ‘Arry may have forgotten me.

Horror of horrors.
But a smile played around my lips as I saw the Royal Crest from HRH Queen Elizabeth II and the invite to the Royal nuptials at St. George’s Chapel this past Saturday.

It was a bit late and I would have to speak to the Young Prince about this. But never mind, here at the Courier we are resigned to receiving what Die Woestynrot calls ‘ambulance calls’. You know the ones that go like this: “Hi, we are having this event, 2 000 people are coming and we would like you guys to cover it for the Courier.” Us: “Sure what is it about and date and time, please?” Them: “Err, now of course, thanks.”

And so it goes. Anyway, I was most distressed to write a missive to HRH Harry and explain in painful detail how, how terribly unfortunate it is that I won’t be able to attend and be witness to the Royal vows exchanged in front of Sir Elton, David, the Spice Girls et al.

It went something like this:

Dear Harry (we have that kind of friendship).
First, many thanks for the kind invite to your much-anticipated marriage to Megs (we have that kind of friendship). I am grateful that the SA Post Office did not open the envelope and steal the invite, thinking it was a few pounds (about a million Rand) after seeing the London date stamp. First class invite, Sir! 
I still have fond memories of meeting you and dad at the Dundee airfield in November 1997 when you were 13. 
It was a bit of a surreal moment that Sunday morning when 60 eager Dundonians waited at the airfield for your plane to land, some even forgoing church to greet you and your party. Old David Rattray of Fugitive’s Drift Lodge tried to keep it quiet but you know us journalists types.
Dad and the late David were great mates and you guys were staying over. 
The woman from the Sunday Tribune, whose name I forget, tried to get an exclusive but she kinda estimated our intelligence – little did they know that some guys came straight from the old JTs pub, where they did an all-nighter, to meet your party. 
It was great fun. 

Your dad was so polite, apologising for his plane flying over what he thought must have been a church (Dundee Suid) while a service was probably in progress (Prince Charles’ words) and he hoped they were not being too much of a nuisance. John Mulhatton, representing the Municipality, was on hand to welcome you guys in such a correct manner – at that stage, before we became mates, no one knew how to greet you and dad so we just called you Sir and dad Sir. 
He did not seem to mind and appeared to look very relaxed in his safari gear which was good as your mum, bless her, had only passed away a few months earlier. I remember following your convoy to Isandlwana where we were allowed to take some photos before your security detail shoo-ed us away, which was fine. 
I had heard that Isandlwana battle story before, anyway. Later, you guys stayed over at Fugitives Lodge which must have been such an experience and I know that Graeme Smythe, then curator of the Rorke’s Drift Museum, presented you with an authentic Zulu assegai – please do not demonstrate it on Megs or anyone else around you! 
Yes, it was a wonderful day for Dundee. And I am so pleased that you have formed a close friendship with our own Lawrence Munro, a former Dundee High head boy, and one of Southern Africa’s most respected wildlife conservationists and has done much to fight the scourge of poaching. 
The only poaching I like is when our local high schools poach each other’s rugby talent. Anyway, good old days, hey, when the Boks used to beat England and the All Blacks. 

Yip, we were all young then. But sadly on May 19 am a bit tied up. Yes, see, we have a goat problem in Dundee. 
They tend to roam around and I dare not leave in case they devastate my washing. My missus won’t be happy. And another thing too – I have to be home in case the electricity auditing company comes around to see if I am nicking power (it tends to happen around here costing us about R25-million a year) and if you are not at home, they tend to disconnect you. And besides that, it is bloody cold these days and I don’t feel getting up when it is pitch black, misty and frozen to drive up to the airport to catch a plane. Besides the roads, may be blocked by burning tyres, You will understand. 
And another thing: Sentraal are playing Newcastle on the same day and I can’t miss that one. And, I think you forgot that the FA Cup final – never mind that the Sharks also playing (get Megs to speak to your wedding planner, boet) – so that’s it. Have a good one mate and say hi to the Spice Girls for me.
Your friend in NDE, The Bowman. 

I sent a less formal letter to Meghan, this in the form of a WhatsApp – Americans are not good at reading letters. It read like this: RSVP, NOCANDU.