Harry and Meghan #298 The half price Prince

[VC10]

WILLY AND KATE INVITED US for tea. To clear the air. June 2018.
We walked over one late afternoon.
I saw Meg’s eyes widen as we entered their front door, walked past their front sitting room, down their hallway, into their study. Wow, Meg said several times. The wallpaper, the crown molding, the walnut bookshelves lined with color-coordinated volumes, the priceless art. Gorgeous. Like a museum. And we both told them so. We complimented them lavishly on their renovation, though we also thought sheepishly of our IKEA lamps, our discount sofa recently bought on sale, with Meg’s credit card, from sofa.com.
-Kate thought Meg had wanted her fashion contacts. But Meg had her own. They’d got off on the wrong foot perhaps? And then, Meg added, everything got magnified by the wedding, and those infernal bridesmaids’ dresses.
-Willy and Kate were apparently upset that we hadn’t given them Easter presents.
-For our part, we chipped in that we weren’t too pleased when Willy and Kate switched place cards and changed seats at our wedding. We’d followed the American tradition, placing couples next to each other, but Willy and Kate didn’t like that tradition, so their table was the only one where spouses were apart. They insisted it wasn’t them, it was someone else.
Kate looked out into the garden, gripping the edges of the leather so tightly that her fingers were white, and said she was owed an apology.
Meg asked: For what?
You hurt my feelings, Meghan.
When? Please tell me.
I told you I couldn’t remember something and you said it was my hormones.
What are you talking about?
Kate mentioned a phone call in which they’d discussed the timing of wedding rehearsals.
Meg said: Oh, yes! I remember: You couldn’t remember something, and I said it’s not a big deal, it’s baby brain. Because you’d just had a baby. It’s hormones.
Kate’s eyes widened: Yes. You talked about my hormones. We’re not close enough for you to talk about my hormones!
Meg’s eyes got wide too. She looked genuinely confused. I’m sorry I talked about your hormones. That’s just how I talk with my girlfriends.
Willy pointed at Meg. It’s rude, Meghan. It’s not what’s done here in Britain.
Kindly take your finger out of my face.
Was this really happening? Had it actually come to this? Shouting at each other about place cards and hormones? Meg said she’d never intentionally do anything to hurt Kate, and if she ever did, she asked Kate to please just let her know so it wouldn’t happen again. We all hugged. Kind of. And then I said we’d better be going.

Prince Harry, The Duke of Sussex.

American spelling, I noticed , in that piece.
Also , it's made up rubbish, like the rest of the book. Walnut bookcases? Nope. Oak. From the Royal Estates

 

[NutMegandCinnamong]

We discussed that on here and decided it didn't sound like the clues lead to Hunter Biden, so it probably was Haz.

If they’re actually naming him, linking him to this thing, and they’re all doing it at once? I hope they know what they’re doing, or they need to get good lawyers.

 

[LadyMuck]

Tom Bower on gb news earlier tonight

 

[Rayne]

The epilogue is him going on about his secret special relationship with the Queen and how he had spoken to her only 4 days before she died. Also he thought of when she had last seen his children and Archie making deep chivalrous bows to the Queen and his sister cuddling the monarch’s shins!

‘Sweetest children’ Granny said sounding bemused. She’d expected them to be a bit more American thought Harry!

After the funeral they returned to America where Granny paid them a visit in the form of a hummingbird!

THE END

Absolute pile of tit!

She didn’t want to see him when she was alive, there’s no chance she wanted to come back and see him while she’s dead

 

[VC10]

We don’t call her Woko Ono for nothing

Woko Moano, more like

 

[LadyMuck]

WILLY AND KATE INVITED US for tea. To clear the air. June 2018.
We walked over one late afternoon.
I saw Meg’s eyes widen as we entered their front door, walked past their front sitting room, down their hallway, into their study. Wow, Meg said several times. The wallpaper, the crown molding, the walnut bookshelves lined with color-coordinated volumes, the priceless art. Gorgeous. Like a museum. And we both told them so. We complimented them lavishly on their renovation, though we also thought sheepishly of our IKEA lamps, our discount sofa recently bought on sale, with Meg’s credit card, from sofa.com.
-Kate thought Meg had wanted her fashion contacts. But Meg had her own. They’d got off on the wrong foot perhaps? And then, Meg added, everything got magnified by the wedding, and those infernal bridesmaids’ dresses.
-Willy and Kate were apparently upset that we hadn’t given them Easter presents.
-For our part, we chipped in that we weren’t too pleased when Willy and Kate switched place cards and changed seats at our wedding. We’d followed the American tradition, placing couples next to each other, but Willy and Kate didn’t like that tradition, so their table was the only one where spouses were apart. They insisted it wasn’t them, it was someone else.
Kate looked out into the garden, gripping the edges of the leather so tightly that her fingers were white, and said she was owed an apology.
Meg asked: For what?
You hurt my feelings, Meghan.
When? Please tell me.
I told you I couldn’t remember something and you said it was my hormones.
What are you talking about?
Kate mentioned a phone call in which they’d discussed the timing of wedding rehearsals.
Meg said: Oh, yes! I remember: You couldn’t remember something, and I said it’s not a big deal, it’s baby brain. Because you’d just had a baby. It’s hormones.
Kate’s eyes widened: Yes. You talked about my hormones. We’re not close enough for you to talk about my hormones!
Meg’s eyes got wide too. She looked genuinely confused. I’m sorry I talked about your hormones. That’s just how I talk with my girlfriends.
Willy pointed at Meg. It’s rude, Meghan. It’s not what’s done here in Britain.
Kindly take your finger out of my face.
Was this really happening? Had it actually come to this? Shouting at each other about place cards and hormones? Meg said she’d never intentionally do anything to hurt Kate, and if she ever did, she asked Kate to please just let her know so it wouldn’t happen again. We all hugged. Kind of. And then I said we’d better be going.

Prince Harry, The Duke of Sussex.

They got reimbursed by BP for their IKEA purchases

 

[Anna2020]

Meanwhile, in the midst of all this, Meg managed to remain calm. Despite what certain people were saying about her, I never heard her speak a bad word about anybody, or to anybody. On the contrary, I watched her redouble her efforts to reach out, to spread kindness.
She sent out handwritten thank-you notes, checked on staff who were ill, sent baskets of food or flowers or goodies to anyone struggling, depressed, off sick. The office was often dark and cold, so she warmed it up with new lamps and space heaters, all bought with her personal credit card. She brought pizza and biscuits, hosted tea parties and ice-cream socials. She shared all the freebies she received, clothes and perfumes and makeup, with all the women in the office.
I stood back in awe at her ability, or determination, to always see the good in people.
The size of her heart was really brought home for me one day. I learned that Mr. R, my former upstairs neighbor when I was in the badger sett, had suffered a tragedy. His adult son had died. Meg didn’t know Mr. R. Neither did she know the son.
But she knew the family had been my neighbors, and she’d often seen them walking their dogs. So she felt tremendous sorrow for them, and wrote the father a letter, expressing condolences, telling him she wanted to give him a hug but didn’t know if it would be appropriate. With the letter she included a gardenia, to plant in the son’s memory. A week later Mr. R appeared at our front door at Nott Cott. He handed Meg a thank-you note and gave her a tight hug. I felt so proud of her, so regretful about my feud with Mr. R. More, I felt regretful about my family feuding with my wife.

Prince Harry, The Duke of Sussex.

 

[JAR21]

REMINDER!!

https://opencorporates.com/companies/us_de/7691065

This is Meghan and Doria‘s ultra secretive corporation, based in (ultra secretive!) Delaware, U.S.

Journalists, stop snooping here and start doing your jobs. Bust this corporation wide open and reveal its filings!!!

Tweet the link to some journalists.

 

[265]

Yeah I know you have done this already but...

Harry got a BESPOKE penis cushion for trip to Antarctica

The Duke of Sussex has claimed a friend presented his with a 'bespoke c**k cushion' made of fleece in a bid to prevent the prince suffering another dose of frostbitten penis during a hike across Antarctica.

www.dailymail.co.uk

what's this obsession with his meat and 2 veg?

 

[VC10]

It's obvious haghan has dictated or final-read that book before publication. Lies, tit, Americanisms that we don't use in The United Kingdom, getting made-up facts wrong ( the furniture being walnut , and nor Oak from the Royal Estates - and there's no way even a simpleton like harry would mistake the two, etc )
AND ITS ALL BLOWN UP IN THEIR FACES ONCE AGAIN

I repeat what I said ages ago-

Divorce , she will say he hit her, was violent......

Pay-off. HRH Anne won't let him have his inheritance. That'll go to that multi-hued lying slag

He will go back to his mother's old house, Kensington Palace

 

[JAR21]

More articles added to the Wiki today:

• Autobiography - Spare

 

[LadyMuck]

OUR STAFF SENSED THE friction, read the press, and thus there was frequent bickering around the office. Sides were taken. Team Cambridge versus Team Sussex. Rivalry, jealousy, competing agendas—it all poisoned the atmosphere.
It didn’t help that everyone was working around the clock. There were so many demands from the press, such a constant stream of errors that needed clearing up, and we didn’t have nearly enough people or resources. At best we were able to address 10 percent of what was out there. Nerves were shattering, people were sniping. In such a climate there was no such thing as constructive criticism. All feedback was seen as an affront, an insult. More than once a staff member slumped across their desk and wept. For all this, every bit of it, Willy blamed one person. Meg.
He told me so several times, and he got cross when I told him he was out of line. He was just repeating the press narrative, spouting fake stories he’d read or been told. The great irony, I told him, was that the real villains were the people he’d imported into the office, people from government, who didn’t seem impervious to this kind of strife—but addicted to it. They had a knack for backstabbing, a talent for intrigue, and they were constantly setting our two groups of staff against each other.

Prince Harry, The Duke of Sussex.

Look a bit closer to home H

 

[NoIAmNotAHorse]

This episode at Frogmore…
1) it’s very clear Wills was absolutely desperate to get through to him, but failed
2) I don’t even know what to say about his idea of a death cult.

Thanks so much @Lillie’s gran.

I definitely agree with you. It is difficult to respond to what that crazy abhorrent little fkr has “written.” On that note, from the excerpts I have read here, I’m astonished that the ghostwriter is a “prize winning author. Prize goose! The writing “style” is immensely annoying. I genuinely appreciate the Tattlers who are reading this, and posting. What a chore!

I think a sequel (“The Madness of Prince Harry 5 of Montecito”) may be in order. Apparently, King George 3 had an odd coloured urine, and due to that anomaly, physicians determined that he suffered from a ‘hereditary deteriorating mental state.’ Surely Harry has shared the colour of his urine?

Despicable murderer of nature 🩸

 

[Anna2020]

WE DIDN’T WANT TO wait. We both wanted to start a family straightaway. We were working crazy hours, our jobs were demanding, the timing wasn’t ideal, but too bad. This had always been our main priority. We worried about the stress of our daily lives, that it might prevent us getting pregnant.
The toll was starting to be visible on Meg; she’d lost a great deal of weight in the last year, despite all the shepherd’s pie. I’m eating more than ever, she reported—yet her weight kept dropping.
Friends recommended an ayurvedic doctor who’d helped them conceive. As I understood it, ayurvedic medicine sorted people into categories. I don’t recall which category this doctor sorted Meg into, but she did confirm our suspicion that Meg’s weight loss might be a barrier to conceiving.
Gain five pounds, the doctor promised, and you’ll get pregnant. So Meg ate, and ate, and soon put on the recommended five pounds, and we looked hopefully at the calendar.
Towards the end of summer 2018 we went to Scotland, the Castle of Mey, to spend a few days with Pa. The bond between Meg and Pa, always strong, grew even stronger during that weekend. One night, over pre-dinner cocktails, Fred Astaire playing in the background, it emerged that Meg shared a birthdate with Pa’s favorite person: Gan-Gan. August 4. Amazing, Pa said with a smile. At the memory of Gan-Gan, and the link between her and my bride, he suddenly became buoyant, telling stories I’d never heard, essentially performing, showing off for Meg. One story in particular delighted us both, captured our imagination. It was about the selkies. The what, Pa? Scottish mermaids, he said. They took the form of seals and cruised along the shore outside the castle, within a stone’s throw of where we were sitting. So, when you see a seal, he advised, you never can tell…Sing to it. They often sing back. Oh, come on. You’re telling fairytales, Pa! No, it’s absolutely true! Did I imagine—did Pa promise—that the selkies might also grant a wish? We talked a bit during that dinner about the stress we’d been under. If we could just convince the papers to back off, we said…for a little while. Pa nodded. But he felt it very important to remind us— Yes, yes, Pa. We know. Don’t read it.
At tea the next day the good vibes continued. We were all laughing, talking about one thing and another, when Pa’s butler burst into the room, pulling a land line behind him. Your Royal Highness, Her Majesty. Pa sat bolt upright. Oh, yes. He reached for the phone. I’m sorry, sir, but she’s calling for the Duchess. Oh. We all looked stunned.
Meg tentatively reached for the phone. It seemed Granny was calling to talk about Meg’s father. She was responding to a letter Meg had written her, asking for advice and help.
Meg said she didn’t know how to make the press stop interviewing him, enticing him to say horrid things. Granny now suggested that Meg forget the press, go and see her father, try to talk some sense into him. Meg explained that he lived in a Mexican border town and she didn’t know how she’d ever get through the airport, through the press surrounding his house, then through that part of town, and back again, quietly, safely. Granny acknowledged the many problems with this plan. In that case, perhaps write him a letter? Pa agreed. Splendid idea.

Prince Harry, The Duke of Sussex.

 

[VC10]

Yeah I know you have done this already but...

Harry got a BESPOKE penis cushion for trip to Antarctica

The Duke of Sussex has claimed a friend presented his with a 'bespoke c**k cushion' made of fleece in a bid to prevent the prince suffering another dose of frostbitten penis during a hike across Antarctica.

www.dailymail.co.uk

what's this obsession with his meat and 2 veg?

It's all he has, and it's tiny & doesn't work properly.

His brothers the big boy

 

[louseylou]

Still just trying to catch up but I just have to put my two cents in about the whole foods thing. I'm from Ireland, we don't have a huge amount of extremely famous people floating round the place but when we do they get left alone generally, by paps and fans alike. Beyonce and Jay Z brought their child to Dublin Zoo and there was like 1 blurry picture of them. Matt Damon and his family lived here for a while at the start of the pandemic, again 1 picture. Same thing goes for Ryan Reynolds and Blake Lively, Adele, Harry Styles, Kim K and Kanye (they went the cinema in Limerick of all places) I could go on and on. If people don't go nuts over here chasing people round the place surely they wouldn't do the same round the wealthier parts of London where people would be used to seeing really famous people?

 

[ChipDex]

If they’re actually naming him, linking him to this thing, and they’re all doing it at once? I hope they know what they’re doing, or they need to get good lawyers.

That's why I hope it isn't true. The fallout would be horrific all round. And way, way worse than Andrew. Which was damaging enough.

Fingers crossed the alleged big story people have alluded to is about something else entirely.

 

[Happy Lady]

One night, not long after Meg’s arrival in Britain, we were at home, making dinner, playing with Guy, and the kitchen of Nott Cott was as full of love as any room I’d ever been in.
I opened a bottle of champagne—an old, old gift I’d been saving for a special occasion. Meg smiled.
What’s the occasion?
No occasion.
I scooped up Guy, carried him outside, into the walled garden, put him down on a blanket I’d spread on the grass. Then I ran back inside and asked Meg to grab her champagne flute and come with me.
What’s up?
Nothing.
I led her out to the garden. Cold night. We were both wrapped in big coats, and hers had a hood lined with fake fur that framed her face like a cameo. I set electric candles around the blanket. I wanted it to look like Botswana, the bush, where I’d first thought of proposing. Now I knelt on the blanket, Guy at my side. Both of us looked up searchingly at Meg. My eyes already full of tears, I brought the ring out of my pocket and said my piece. I was shivering, and my heart was audibly thumping, and my voice was unsteady, but she got the idea.
Spend your life with me? Make me the happiest guy on this planet?
Yes.
Yes?
Yes!
I laughed. She laughed. What other reaction could there be? In this mixed-up world, this pain-filled life, we’d done it. We’d managed to find each other. Then we were crying and laughing, and petting Guy, who looked frozen solid. We started for the house. Oh, wait. Don’t you want to see the ring, my love? She hadn’t even thought about it. We hurried inside, finished our celebration in the warmth of the kitchen. It was November 4. We managed to keep it secret for about two weeks.

Prince Harry, The Duke of Sussex.

Hang on a minute. I thought he'd proposed in the kitchen while she cooked roast chicken. Well that's what they told the world when interviewed after/about the engagement.

 

[Corfu-blue]

who's read the book?! The mice and men chapter?!!

 

[LadyMuck]

Meanwhile, in the midst of all this, Meg managed to remain calm. Despite what certain people were saying about her, I never heard her speak a bad word about anybody, or to anybody. On the contrary, I watched her redouble her efforts to reach out, to spread kindness.
She sent out handwritten thank-you notes, checked on staff who were ill, sent baskets of food or flowers or goodies to anyone struggling, depressed, off sick. The office was often dark and cold, so she warmed it up with new lamps and space heaters, all bought with her personal credit card. She brought pizza and biscuits, hosted tea parties and ice-cream socials. She shared all the freebies she received, clothes and perfumes and makeup, with all the women in the office.
I stood back in awe at her ability, or determination, to always see the good in people.
The size of her heart was really brought home for me one day. I learned that Mr. R, my former upstairs neighbor when I was in the badger sett, had suffered a tragedy. His adult son had died. Meg didn’t know Mr. R. Neither did she know the son.
But she knew the family had been my neighbors, and she’d often seen them walking their dogs. So she felt tremendous sorrow for them, and wrote the father a letter, expressing condolences, telling him she wanted to give him a hug but didn’t know if it would be appropriate. With the letter she included a gardenia, to plant in the son’s memory. A week later Mr. R appeared at our front door at Nott Cott. He handed Meg a thank-you note and gave her a tight hug. I felt so proud of her, so regretful about my feud with Mr. R. More, I felt regretful about my family feuding with my wife.

Prince Harry, The Duke of Sussex.

Her kindness?? Wonder if the Sussex survivors club and Reitmans staff feel the same way H. Ask them