When I was growing up I wanted to marry Han Solo. Then Adam Ant. And briefly, Bruce Willis from Moonlighting.
Strangely, it never occurred to me that I could marry a prince – nor, indeed did I want to. Yes, I may act like a princess sometimes *cough*. And let’s face it, there wasn’t much to choose from anyway as far as eligible royal bachelors went when I was growing up. Charles, Andrew or Prince Albert from Monaco? Do me a favour.
But I can honestly say I never envied Diana, or Fergie, or wished I could be them. I liked Diana’s hair (I even had a Diana flick), but I didn’t want to swap places with her.
I wanted to have a career, and income, of my own.
And yet the impending Royal Wedding seems to have sent the media into a time warp. Last night there was a ridiculous programme on Sky Living called ‘How to nab a prince.’ I’m not making this up.
It was tongue-in-cheek (I think, I hope) but at the same time I have no doubt that some girls, like Kate and Diana, do dream of marrying a prince.
It’s hardly surprising, I guess, when you have dinosaurs like Simon Murray suggesting that women like bringing up children more than the boardroom. If that’s the kind of attitude still prevalent in many industries then the glass ceilings will never be smashed.
I’m not knocking anyone who decides that having a family is more important to them than a career. But it’s about choice.
My mum and her friends marched so that their daughters and granddaughters could have the freedom to make the most of everything life had to offer.
It would be such a shame if we’ve come full circle.