Meghan taught us any man is still better than no man at all

I had an odd conversation with Himself the other day. Somehow he mentioned “when” we finally get married – yes, we’re thinking of taking the plunge if one of us is ever diagnosed with something terminal – and in so doing, he referred to me as a future “Mrs Connolly”.

“But I wouldn’t take your surname,” I said.

“What’s wrong with my surname?” he protested.

“Nothing. What’s wrong with mine?”

And so to the weekend’s royal wedding, and the merry dance of women being granted an identity by their menfolk.

This, we understand, is every woman’s special day, dreamt of since she was taught to dream, the day when Daddy gives away his little girl.

And didn’t Meghan look lovely, with her veil discreetly embroidered with flowers from all of the Commonwealth countries?

And Harry lifted the veil so sweetly, even straightening it so that it sat right – would-be princesses everywhere sighed at his tender touch – yet there it was, writ deceptively light and pretty: the old trope about female purity, about the bride being preserved for the pleasure of her new hubby, given away by Daddy.

But of course, Megan wasn’t given away by her father. Daddy Markle had messed up most unroyally: he was indiscreet, posing for “unposed” tabloid photographs. How could he possibly give her away without embarrassment?

Luckily a spot of convenient heart surgery kept him away.

So could we now hope that Ms Markle – successful, 30-something, previously married, nobody’s ingénue – might stride down the aisle by herself?

Or might it be possible that the bride would glide towards her new best friend accompanied by old friends who’ve stood beside her over the years, who’ve kept her secrets, whose shoulders have absorbed her tears, whose wit has deepened her laugh lines?

Or dare we dream that her own steadfast mother could give her away, that the very woman who gave birth to her, the single parent who raised her and loved her like no other, might walk proudly beside her daughter?

Don’t be silly. Instead gallant Prince Charles stepped into the man-breach, and at once a billion little girls learned that any man is better than no man at all.

Jennie Ridyard.