Flawless curtesy and everyone complimenting her on it!
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I went to college and came back to many extracts I think I need to read it properly. Is there a way to link-in , to understand the spares pain ?
In desperation I went to Willy. I took advantage of the first quiet moment I’d had with him in years: The end of August 2017, at Althorp. Twentieth anniversary of Mummy’s death. We rowed the little boat out to the island. (The bridge had been removed, to give my mother privacy, to keep intruders away.) We each had a bouquet of flowers, which we set on the grave. We stood there awhile, having our own thoughts, and then we talked about life.
I gave him a quick summary of what Meg and I had been dealing with. Don’t worry, Harold. No one believes that tit. Not true. They do. It’s drip-fed to them, day by day, and they come to believe it without even being aware. He didn’t have a satisfying answer for that, so we were silent. Then he said something extraordinary.
He said he thought Mummy was here. Meaning…among us.
Yes, me too, Willy.
I think she’s been in my life, Harold. Guiding me. Setting things up for me. I think she’s helped me start a family. And I feel as though she’s helping you now too.
I nodded. Totally agree. I feel as though she helped me find Meg. Willy took a step back. He looked concerned. That seemed to be taking things a bit far. Well, now, Harold, I’m not sure about that. I wouldn’t say THAT!
Prince Harry, The Duke of Sussex.
I gave him a quick summary of what Meg and I had been dealing with. Don’t worry, Harold. No one believes that tit. Not true. They do. It’s drip-fed to them, day by day, and they come to believe it without even being aware. He didn’t have a satisfying answer for that, so we were silent. Then he said something extraordinary.
He said he thought Mummy was here. Meaning…among us.
Yes, me too, Willy.
I think she’s been in my life, Harold. Guiding me. Setting things up for me. I think she’s helped me start a family. And I feel as though she’s helping you now too.
I nodded. Totally agree. I feel as though she helped me find Meg. Willy took a step back. He looked concerned. That seemed to be taking things a bit far. Well, now, Harold, I’m not sure about that. I wouldn’t say THAT!
Prince Harry, The Duke of Sussex.
As are her deluded fansI hadn’t watched it at the time she was dating him etc but I did start after the engagement was announced out of interest, and I’m convinced she still thinks she’s actually Rachel Zane!
flatpacks. Surely.
Undoubtedly we saw each other!I worked in a street just behind Olympia for a bit ... maybe you saw me.
Again...
This is William's memory. Isn't it? When Diana had some models over, was Harry there too???
He omitted Naomi probably because he knows she would out him.
Princess Diana invited three supermodels over to the house to embarrass Prince William
"I was completely and utterly awestruck"
As she found in the summer of not-Ashley Cole, when she could get no press coverage at all, acc to Tom Bower
Whaaat! Internationally famous superstar, supermodel A class actress Meghan Markle was left inconsolable. Sobbing. Shaking from 4 men taking pictures!!!!!!
And NONE of them managed to get a picture of the other THREE taking pictures of her. Compared to the mobs surrounding Kate and the vile, abusive way they treated her.
duck off, she had blisters from walking up and down to get noticed and was inconsolable from not being hounded.
“kissing her soft neck, inhaling her perfume” I was skim reading thinking he was talking about Megz but he’s actually talking about Diana I tit you not, why is he so creepy and weird about her. Has anyone else ever thought to themselves their mam has a soft neck?! :/ This is one very very weird obsession he has.
MEG CAME TO LONDON. September 2017.
We were in Nott Cott. In the kitchen. Preparing dinner. The whole cottage was filled with…love. Filled to overflowing. It even seemed to spill out the open door, into the garden outside, a scrubby little patch of ground that no one had wanted, for a very long time, but which Meg and I had slowly reclaimed. We’d raked and mown, planted and watered, and many evenings we sat out there on a blanket, listening to classical music concerts wafting over from the park.
I told Meg about the garden just on the other side of our wall: Mummy’s garden. Where Willy and I played as kids. It was now sealed off from us forever. As my memories had once been. Whose garden is it now? she asked. It belongs to Princess Michael of Kent. And her Siamese cats. Mummy despised those cats. As I smelt the garden, and considered this new life, cherished this new life, Meg was sitting on the other side of the kitchen, scooping Wagamama from cartons into bowls.
Without thinking I blurted out: I don’t know, I just… I had my back to her. I froze, mid-sentence, hesitant to go on, hesitant to turn around. You don’t know what, Haz? I just… Yes? I love you. I listened for a response. There was none. Now I could hear her, or feel her, walking towards me. I turned and there she was, right before me.
I love you too, Haz.
The words had been on the tip of my tongue almost from the start, so in one sense they didn’t feel particularly revelatory, or even necessary. Of course I loved her. Meg knew that, Meg could see it, the whole world could. I loved her with all my heart as I’d never loved anyone before. And yet saying it made everything real. Saying it set things in motion, automatically. Saying it was a step.
Prince Harry, The Duke of Sussex.
We were in Nott Cott. In the kitchen. Preparing dinner. The whole cottage was filled with…love. Filled to overflowing. It even seemed to spill out the open door, into the garden outside, a scrubby little patch of ground that no one had wanted, for a very long time, but which Meg and I had slowly reclaimed. We’d raked and mown, planted and watered, and many evenings we sat out there on a blanket, listening to classical music concerts wafting over from the park.
I told Meg about the garden just on the other side of our wall: Mummy’s garden. Where Willy and I played as kids. It was now sealed off from us forever. As my memories had once been. Whose garden is it now? she asked. It belongs to Princess Michael of Kent. And her Siamese cats. Mummy despised those cats. As I smelt the garden, and considered this new life, cherished this new life, Meg was sitting on the other side of the kitchen, scooping Wagamama from cartons into bowls.
Without thinking I blurted out: I don’t know, I just… I had my back to her. I froze, mid-sentence, hesitant to go on, hesitant to turn around. You don’t know what, Haz? I just… Yes? I love you. I listened for a response. There was none. Now I could hear her, or feel her, walking towards me. I turned and there she was, right before me.
I love you too, Haz.
The words had been on the tip of my tongue almost from the start, so in one sense they didn’t feel particularly revelatory, or even necessary. Of course I loved her. Meg knew that, Meg could see it, the whole world could. I loved her with all my heart as I’d never loved anyone before. And yet saying it made everything real. Saying it set things in motion, automatically. Saying it was a step.
Prince Harry, The Duke of Sussex.
Has to be this one, I just read the passage to my husband and he is quite open to peoples little weirdnesses but even he says that's weird.
Geez another thread. Love the title.
Imagine what the little one's dresses looked like before they were fixed. Said they worked on them for 3 days till 4am. No wonder Givenchy was not happy
www.dailymail.co.uk
Imagine what the little one's dresses looked like before they were fixed. Said they worked on them for 3 days till 4am. No wonder Givenchy was not happy
Tailor at centre of Meghan and Kate's bridesmaid dress row speaks out
Luxury suit and dressmaker Ajay Mirpuri (pictured) has broken four years of silence on the now infamous affair after being tracked down by the Daily Mail.
I see...
So all this stuff about leaking is cobblers then.
Or how else would it by a mystery that he had been with Meghan in Botswana and nobody knew?
Yeah fine, it would hardly be gossip meeting some woman in Waitrose.
It can’t be real…. Please … it can’t be.
Thanks for the new thread and title.
Did Scrotie take over the ghostwriting, or something? It's veered right into "peeing in the bushes" territory.
I reckon it's having the exact opposite effect than Harold intended.
He looks like an absolute tit, and William comes across as a fundamentally decent, rational, mature, but increasingly frustrated older brother trying one more time to save Haz from himself.
In fact, he's made all the RF look pretty good, IMO. They were clearly trying their best to support a very very difficult and challenging individual through all sorts of personalities and complexes. Oedipus. Messiah. Napoleon. All the while trying to be patient and understanding in the face of hostility, jealousy and resentment. And the substance issues.
I always thought they gave him far too much attention and far too much leeway, but in retrospect they were just trying to keep a lid on the worst of it. For his sake. Rather than being abandoned and abused, he was being protected more than he'll ever understand. The Sun story about being allowed to leave his base when the drug testing team arrived is proof of that.
KC3 wants him home. They'll fail if they take him back on anything other than a private, family level though. The public may be getting a good laugh out of the memoir, but it'll cease to be funny if he comes back in any sort of official capacity, and we have to pay for him.
He's not exactly in the best frame of mind to represent the UK, is he?
JMO.
I am gobsmacked this ever got past the proofreaders. They must have been pissing themselves laughing.I think this book deserves an award for best comedy.
Did Scrotie take over the ghostwriting, or something? It's veered right into "peeing in the bushes" territory.
I reckon it's having the exact opposite effect than Harold intended.
He looks like an absolute tit, and William comes across as a fundamentally decent, rational, mature, but increasingly frustrated older brother trying one more time to save Haz from himself.
In fact, he's made all the RF look pretty good, IMO. They were clearly trying their best to support a very very difficult and challenging individual through all sorts of personalities and complexes. Oedipus. Messiah. Napoleon. All the while trying to be patient and understanding in the face of hostility, jealousy and resentment. And the substance issues.
I always thought they gave him far too much attention and far too much leeway, but in retrospect they were just trying to keep a lid on the worst of it. For his sake. Rather than being abandoned and abused, he was being protected more than he'll ever understand. The Sun story about being allowed to leave his base when the drug testing team arrived is proof of that.
KC3 wants him home. They'll fail if they take him back on anything other than a private, family level though. The public may be getting a good laugh out of the memoir, but it'll cease to be funny if he comes back in any sort of official capacity, and we have to pay for him.
He's not exactly in the best frame of mind to represent the UK, is he?
JMO.
From last thread - @Anna2020 thank you!! 
'She (Meghan) was wearing a black sweater, jeans, heels. I knew nothing about clothes, but I knew she was chic. Then again, I knew she could make anything look chic. Even a bivvy bag.'
But not her wedding dress - the wedding dress on the occasion she married Harry, not Trevor.
The awful strapless bra again!!!!????!!
The main thing I noticed was the chasm between internet and reality. I’d seen so many photos of her from fashion shoots and TV sets, all glam and glossy,
lol
...but here she was, in the flesh, no frills, no filter…and even more beautiful. Heart-attack beautiful.
Riiiiiiighhhhhhht!!
'She (Meghan) was wearing a black sweater, jeans, heels. I knew nothing about clothes, but I knew she was chic. Then again, I knew she could make anything look chic. Even a bivvy bag.'
But not her wedding dress - the wedding dress on the occasion she married Harry, not Trevor.
The main thing I noticed was the chasm between internet and reality. I’d seen so many photos of her from fashion shoots and TV sets, all glam and glossy,
...but here she was, in the flesh, no frills, no filter…and even more beautiful. Heart-attack beautiful.
Riiiiiiighhhhhhht!!
Someone handed me a joint. Lovely.
What sort of bloody writing is this? I'm a terrible writer and this even to me is tit.
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