Many people have asked me what I said to the Duke and Duchess of Cambridge.

I liken the moment to the sort of thing you might experience when going to a wedding as a date, one where you do not actually know any of the principals, but are nonetheless obligated to join the reception line at the back of the church and greet the couple. Such an occasion is important for everyone else in the church, but one you yourself could really care less about. Even so, politeness and mutual interest is required. Hopefully you say something clever. Usually, you don't.

The Prince has been doing this sort of thing his whole life, and knows how to work a line up of strangers. His wife hasn't. And doesn't.

The only clever thing I thought of was to offer her a sandwich, as it looked as if she could use one. That seemed like a bad idea, and I would have had to go back to catering anyway to find one, so I didn't mention it. Instead we thanked each other, for what I don’t know. And then she was talking to Alan.

More amusing was my encounter with the prime minister, a man for whom I have the greatest ambivalence. I am pretty apolitical, politicians generally make me nervous, too much forced gaiety and insincerity. Mr. Harper is renowned for his serious demeanor, and it was plain that being a royal chaperone was no more his idea of a good time than mine. Our encounter was even more awkward. The procession froze for some reason, and he was forced to stand and chat with me for a few minutes. Plainly, we were uninterested in each other. It was worse then a wedding reception line, more like a similar event at the funeral of a business acquaintance’s relative, where one has to make uncomfortable small talk about someone you didn't really know. We discussed how hot it was for some time. Then he said there would be fewer people at his party that night. I found this a little odd, and could think of nothing sensible to say other than then “oh."

Mrs. Harper must have sensed panic, because she broke in with a bright “he has a band too!" "You have a band?", I said. I was a little surprised by this, he doesn't seem like the type. Maybe I had misheard, because he looked at me with some confusion.

"Your band...?" I enquired again, and then the conversation died away altogether. We stared at each other.

Suddenly the line lurched forward.