Harry and Meghan #298 The half price Prince

[givepeasachance]

Still, despite the mounting stress, the terrible pressure, we managed to protect our essential bond, never snapping at each other during those few days. As we came to the final hours of her visit, we were solid, happy, and Meg announced she wanted to make me a special goodbye lunch. There was nothing in my fridge, as usual. But there was a Whole Foods down the street. I gave her directions, the safest route, past the Palace guards, turn right, towards Kensington Palace Gardens, down to Kensington High Street, there’s a police barrier, take a right and you’ll see Whole Foods. It’s massive, you can’t miss it. I had an engagement but I’d be home soon.
Baseball cap, jacket, head down, side gate. You’ll be fine, I promise.
Two hours later, when I got home, I found her inconsolable. Sobbing. Shaking. What is it? What’s happened? She could barely get the story out.
She’d dressed just as I’d advised, and she’d run happily, anonymously, up and down the supermarket aisles. But as she rode the escalator a man approached. Excuse me, do you know where the exit is? Oh, yes, I think it’s just up here to the left. Hey! You’re on that program—Suits, am I right? My wife loves you. Oh. That’s so nice! Thanks. What’s your name? Jeff. Nice to meet you, Jeff. Please tell her I said thanks for watching. I will. Can I get a picture…you know, for my mum? Thought you said it was your wife. Oh. Yeah. Heh. Sorry, I’m just grocery shopping today. His face changed. Well, even if I can’t take a picture WITH you…that doesn’t stop me taking pictures OF you!

Prince Harry, The Duke of Sussex.

He seriously advised her to wear Hunter boots and the 'Alleviate Poverty Worldwide' bag? He's taking the blame for pretty much everything!

She has so written this

 

[Blessmyheart]

even turning down a very dreamy bike trip through the lavender fields of southern France…

I bet she paints in watercolours and washes her hair in a rain barrel.
It just sounds like one big Cadbury flake advert.Dopey boy was so easily roped in.
I’d have given it more credibility if she had said she was off on a piss up to Ibiza.

 

[emmer_moans]

My god.

"Personal mythology "

 

[Anna2020]

PA WANTED TO HELP choose the music for the ceremony so he invited us one night to Clarence House, for dinner and…a concert.
music.
He wholly endorsed our desire to have an orchestra rather than an organist, and he played an assortment of orchestras to get us in the mood. After a time, we segued into classical, and he talked about his love of Beethoven. Meg spoke about her own deep feeling for Chopin.
Meg evoked so much in him, qualities I’d rarely seen. In her presence Pa became boyish. I saw it, saw the bond between them growing stronger, and I felt strengthened in my own bond with him. So many people were treating her shabbily, it filled my heart to see my father treating her like the princess she was about to—maybe born to—become.

Prince Harry, The Duke of Sussex.

 

[Ndrangheta]

Tom Bower last night blew me away: "Harry has been a drug addict for 25 years", "Doria sold drugs and was a heavy user", "Doria went missing for 10 years but I can't legally say why". Even old Wooten looked worried: "Don't worry, it's legally locked-up", Tom reassured. Fucking hell ... Go Tom!

Funny also how Tom called Harry thick, pointing out how he failed his Eton entry exam twice, his letter to Sandhurst read like it had been written by a 12 year old, and how he had to leave the army because he couldn't pass the exam to make the rank of Major.

The best line tho was: "By destroying everyone else he hopes to save himself". That's so true. It's also so fucking delusional. Thick druggie cunt.

 

[EnoughAlready]

“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 shit 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.

 

[coconochanel]

I have a question what moron would go and queue up to buy the book at WH Smiths or Waterstones when you can order it from amazon?

 

[Spacemonkey1972]

THE ADDRESS WAS HALF an hour from Nott Cott. Just a quick drive across the Thames, past the park…but it felt like one of my polar journeys. Heart pounding, I took a deep breath, knocked at the door. The woman opened it, welcomed me. She led me down a short corridor to her office. First door on the left. Small room. Windows with venetian blinds. Right on the busy street. You could hear cars, shoes clicking on the pavement. People talking, laughing. She was fifteen years older than me, but youthful. She reminded me of Tiggy. It was shocking, really. Such a similar vibe. She pointed me to a dark green sofa and took a chair across the room. The day was autumnal, yet I was sweating profusely. I apologized. I overheat easily. Also, I’m a bit nervous. Say no more. She jumped up, ran out. Moments later she returned with a little fan, which she aimed at me. Ah, lovely. Thank you. She waited for me to begin. But I didn’t know where to begin. So I began with my mum. I said I was afraid of losing her. She gave me a long, searching look. She knew, of course, that I’d already lost my mum. How surreal, to meet a therapist who already knows part of your life story, who’s possibly spent beach holidays reading whole books about you. Yes, I’ve already lost my mum, of course, but I’m afraid that by talking about her, now, here, to a perfect stranger, and perhaps alleviating some of the pain of that loss, I’ll be losing her again. I’ll be losing that feeling, that presence of her—or what I’ve always felt as her presence. The therapist squinted. I tried again. You see…the pain…if that’s what it is…that’s all I have left of her. And the pain is also what drives me. Some days the pain is the only thing holding me together. And also, I suppose, without the pain, well, she might think…I’ve forgotten her. That sounded silly. But, well, there it was. Most memories of my mother, I explained, with sudden and overwhelming sorrow, were gone. On the other side of the Wall. I told her about the Wall. I told her I’d spoken to Willy about my lack of memories of our mother. He’d advised me to look through photo albums, which I’d promptly done. Nothing
So, my mother wasn’t images, or impressions, she was mainly just a hole in my heart, and if I healed that hole, patched it up—what then? I asked if all this sounded crazy. No. We were silent. A long time. She asked me what I needed. Why are you here? Look, I said. What I need…is to be rid of this heaviness in my chest. I need…I need… Yes? To cry. Please. Help me cry.

Prince Harry, The Duke of Sussex

I can’t say too much as it’ll get family members into trouble but someone in my family knows Tiggy as they’re good friends with Tiggys sister. Tiggy has been thru absolute hell for a few years now and was vindicated last year or so. She will NOT be pleased her name is being dragged out again. Even in this book. Which by the way is bloody awful. And there’s too much detail which is always a sign of lying. Learnt that in my psych degree

 

[Chilli pepper 19]

So, she finished her Eat Pray Love thing, then flew from London to Johannesburg, then to Maun, where I’d asked Teej to meet her. (I wanted to do it myself, of course, but couldn’t without creating a scene.) After an eleven-hour odyssey, including a three-hour layover in Johannesburg, and a hot car ride to the house, Meghan had every right to be grumpy. But she wasn’t. Bright-eyed, eager, she was ready for anything. And looking like…perfection. She wore cut-off jean shorts, well-loved hiking boots, a crumpled Panama hat that I’d seen on her Instagram page.

I asked about the flight. She laughed about the Air Botswana crew. They were big fans of Suits, so they’d asked her to pose for a photo.

Prince Harry, The Duke of Sussex

Am I the only person in the world who'd never heard of suits or watched it. I think I'm going to drown in my own vomit reading this

 

[youRjokingHunz]

Love the shade we Brit’s throw

 

[goldshoes]

My favourite bit of all this is Harry insisting that everyone in his life loves and is obsessed with Suits. Will, Kate, Eugenie, his friends...

They must have made up the entire viewing figures for that show.

When you think of the people that they have met as members of the Royal family - at private parties as well as public functions I find it hard to believe that they would be at all impressed by Markle from a show that by 2016 was only on E4 at 3am and didn't make the main channels at all. It had passed its peak a couple of years before.
They have met most of the leaders in whatever field they are dealing with - but yes, sure they'd be impressed with Markle.

 

[TheArtisticMouse]

Since when is eat pray love high culture. It’s the most basic book there is

 

[Hula flight]

I actually think the more sales this book gets,the better-.
I hope it sells lots because although it will make him money,it will remove any sympathy that anyone has for him altogether.
It will show everyone what a spiteful little prick he is.
Even people I work with are saying "what the fuck????" And they are so not interested in the Royals.

 

[wibble]

After he delivered their daughter and Meg told him she’d never loved him more and also wrote a poem..

And here is the poem she sent via text...

"I love you so much, that I could shout,
because you pulled our baby out.
I wasn't so happy, nor so pleased,
when you gave the surrogate's boobs a squeeze.

Let me know when you get back from the hospital

Megz x"

 

[Anna2020]

REUNITED. A quiet night at Nott Cott, preparing dinner together. December 2016. Meg and I had discovered that we shared the same favorite food: roast chicken. I didn’t know how to cook it, so that night she was teaching me. I remember the warmth of the kitchen, the wonderful smells. Lemon wedges on the cutting board, garlic and rosemary, gravy bubbling in a saucepan. I remember rubbing salt on the skin of the bird, then opening a bottle of wine. Meg put on music.
Maybe the wine went to my head. Maybe the weeks of battling the press had worn me down. For some reason, when the conversation took an unexpected turn, I became touchy. Then angry. Disproportionately, sloppily angry. Meg said something I took the wrong way. It was partly a cultural difference, partly a language barrier, but I was also just over-sensitive that night. I thought: Why’s she having a go at me? I snapped at her, spoke to her harshly—cruelly. As the words left my mouth, I could feel everything in the room come to a stop. The gravy stopped bubbling, the molecules of air stopped orbiting. Even Nina Simone seemed to pause. Meg walked out of the room, disappearing for a full fifteen minutes. I went and found her upstairs. She was sitting in the bedroom. She was calm, but said in a quiet, level tone that she would never stand for being spoken to like that. I nodded. She wanted to know where it came from. I don’t know. Where did you ever hear a man speak like that to a woman? Did you overhear adults speak that way when you were growing up? I cleared my throat, looked away. Yes. She wasn’t going to tolerate that kind of partner. Or co-parent. That kind of life. She wasn’t going to raise children in an atmosphere of anger or disrespect. She laid it all out, super-clear. We both knew my anger hadn’t been caused by anything to do with our conversation. It came from somewhere deep inside, somewhere that needed to be excavated, and it was obvious that I could use some help with the job. I’ve tried therapy, I told her. Willy told me to go. Never found the right person. Didn’t work. No, she said softly. Try again.

Prince Harry, The Duke of Sussex.

 

[LadyMuck]

Every moment of that week was a revelation and a blessing. And yet every moment also dragged us closer to the wrenching minute when we’d have to say goodbye. There was no way around it: Meg had to get back. I had to fly to the capital, Gaborone, to meet the president of Botswana, to discuss conservation issues, after which I was embarking on a three-phase lads’ trip, months in the planning. I would cancel, I told Meg, but my mates would never forgive me. We said goodbye; Meg began to cry. When will I see you again? Soon. Not soon enough. No. Not nearly.

Prince Harry, The Duke of Sussex

He's like a 14 year old love sick puppy. And still is

 

[Kezzle1]

From the memes thread for all of us

 

[Suzesnooze]

It’s actually awful reading between the lines how obvious it is to the reader that William knew H is ill and needs help even telling him that he loved him and cared for him deeply and would do everything to help him but H just sees it as them growing apart as H had therapy (that William believed was brain washing him)and became more independent.

I can only assume that in the end William just had to give up and leave him to it. It’s very sad

 

[coconochanel]

I know we are only in January but this book is the laugh of the year!

 

[YeltsinsTank]

I'm sorry; I know I'm like an 8 year old who just discovered the F word but I can't stop!