Not really the same but anyway picture 24 of 84
A Rare Look at Princess Margaret's Glamorous Life (housebeautiful.com)
A Rare Look at Princess Margaret's Glamorous Life (housebeautiful.com)
Where exactly does Harry think regular Brits live? Has he ever wondered what the average house in the UK is like?I WAS EXCITED TO welcome Meg to my home, but also embarrassed: Nott Cott was no palace. Nott Cott was palace adjacent—that was the best you could say for it. I watched her as she walked up the front path, through the white picket fence. To my relief she made no sign of dismay, gave no indication of disillusionment. Until she got inside. Then she said something about a frat house. I glanced around. She wasn’t far off. Union Jack in the corner. (The one I’d waved at the North Pole.) Old rifle on the TV stand. (A gift from Oman, after an official visit.) Xbox console. Just a place to keep my stuff, I explained, moving around some papers and clothes. I’m not here much. It was also constructed for smaller people, humans of a bygone era. Thus the rooms were tiny and the ceilings were doll’s house low. I gave her a quick tour, which took thirty seconds. Mind your head! I’d never noticed until then just how shabby the furniture was. Brown sofa, browner beanbag chair. Meg paused before the beanbag. I know. I know.
Prince Harry, The Duke of Sussex
Dolt. She needed time to learn the ropes - and by your own admission you failed to teach her! You didn’t tell her to curtsey to your brother or your stepmother meaning she was failing just because you had a beef about them.I’d always told myself that there were firm rules about relationships, at least when it came to royalty, and the main one was that you absolutely must date a woman for three years before taking the plunge. How else could you know about her? How else could she know about you—and your royal life? How else could both of you be sure that this was what you wanted, that it was a thing you could endure together? It wasn’t for everybody. But Meg seemed the shining exception to this rule. All rules. I knew her straightaway, and she knew me. The true me. Might seem rash, I thought, might seem illogical, but it’s true: For the first time, in fact, I felt myself to be living in truth.
Prince Harry, The Duke of Sussex
Is it this?I swear that there is a photo of her posing on a bike with that stupid fedora and wearing a blue and white striped sundress...and now I cannot find it anywhere
You are going to need some serious detoxing after regurgitating all this Crapus Harribilis ,Anna..Everything is from the book.
Okay you guys. A lot of you were there for this with me and gave me a lot of blessings and good wishes, so it's really fitting that you all be the first to know this (and since my parents are currently sleeping and my dog will rip me apart if I wake them up). I cleared the professional exam that I sat for in November!!
They just released the results and now I'm shaking from more than the cold!!
Chocolates and tea/coffee for all!
Except Sparry and his Ho. They wasted burgers
Still better than the "I miss your boobs" texts I used to get even though he hadn't touched or even seen them. I'm sure Sparry meant the same. Or lower.He's so fucking THICK I can't stand it.
Even his romantic letters are just "I miss u xoxo"
Thick as two short planks.
Frat House? It was built by Sr Christopher Wren, Prine real estate in Kensington, not only Kensington but KP. It’s worth a bloody fortuneI WAS EXCITED TO welcome Meg to my home, but also embarrassed: Nott Cott was no palace. Nott Cott was palace adjacent—that was the best you could say for it. I watched her as she walked up the front path, through the white picket fence. To my relief she made no sign of dismay, gave no indication of disillusionment. Until she got inside. Then she said something about a frat house. I glanced around. She wasn’t far off. Union Jack in the corner. (The one I’d waved at the North Pole.) Old rifle on the TV stand. (A gift from Oman, after an official visit.) Xbox console. Just a place to keep my stuff, I explained, moving around some papers and clothes. I’m not here much. It was also constructed for smaller people, humans of a bygone era. Thus the rooms were tiny and the ceilings were doll’s house low. I gave her a quick tour, which took thirty seconds. Mind your head! I’d never noticed until then just how shabby the furniture was. Brown sofa, browner beanbag chair. Meg paused before the beanbag. I know. I know.
Prince Harry, The Duke of Sussex
The friend was Marcus Anderson I betI felt pretty sure she hadn’t googled me, because she was always asking questions. She seemed to know almost nothing—so refreshing. It showed that she wasn’t impressed by royalty, which I thought the first step to surviving it. More, since she hadn’t done a deep dive into the literature, the public record, her head wasn’t filled with disinformation.
After Willy and I had laid flowers at Mummy’s grave, we drove together back to London. I phoned Meg, told her I was on my way. I tried to keep my voice nonchalant, not wanting to give myself away to Willy.
There’s a secret way into the hotel, she said. Then a freight lift.
All went according to plan. After I’d met the friend and navigated a sort of maze through the bowels of Soho House, I finally reached Meg’s door. I knocked and suspended breathing while I waited. The door flew open. That smile. Her hair was partly covering her eyes. Her arms were reaching for me. She pulled me inside and thanked her friend in one fluid motion, then slammed the door quickly before anyone saw. I want to say we hung a Do Not Disturb sign on the door. But I don’t think there was time.
Prince Harry, The Duke of Sussex
Where’s the biro that Princess Margaret had gifted him? Would have been fecking useful in the end you ungrateful prick.Then I looked at the Jet Ski. Floating on its side. Shit. My iPhone! With all my photos! And phone numbers! MEG! The Jet Ski came to rest on the sandbar. We flipped it right and I grabbed my phone from the console. Soaked. Ruined. All the photos Meg and I had taken! Plus all our texts! I’d known this lads’ trip would be wild, so I’d sent some photos to Meg and other mates before leaving, as a precaution. Still, the rest were surely lost. More, how was I going to be in touch with her? Adi said not to worry, we’d put the phone in rice, a surefire way to dry it out. Hours later, the moment we got back to camp, that was just what we did. We submerged the phone in a big bucket of uncooked white rice. I looked down, highly dubious. How long will this take? Day or two. No good. I need a solution now. Mike and I worked out a plan. I could write a letter to Meg, which he’d take home with him to Maun. Teej could then photograph the letter and text it to Meg. (She had Meg’s number on her phone: I’d given it to her when she first went to collect Meg from the airport.) Now I just had to write that letter. The first challenge was finding a pen among that bunch of muppets. Does anyone have a pen? A what? A pen. I’ve got an EpiPen! No! A pen. A biro! My kingdom for a biro! Oh. A biro. Wow. Somehow I found one. The next challenge was finding a place to compose. I went off under a tree. I thought. I stared into space. I wrote: Hey Beautiful. OK you got me—can’t stop thinking about you, missing you, LOTS. Phone went in river. Sad face…Apart from that, having an amazing time. Wish u were here. Mike left, letter in hand.
Prince Harry, The Duke of Sussex.
No biro? He should have kept the one that Princess Margaret gave him for Christmas.Then I looked at the Jet Ski. Floating on its side. Shit. My iPhone! With all my photos! And phone numbers! MEG! The Jet Ski came to rest on the sandbar. We flipped it right and I grabbed my phone from the console. Soaked. Ruined. All the photos Meg and I had taken! Plus all our texts! I’d known this lads’ trip would be wild, so I’d sent some photos to Meg and other mates before leaving, as a precaution. Still, the rest were surely lost. More, how was I going to be in touch with her? Adi said not to worry, we’d put the phone in rice, a surefire way to dry it out. Hours later, the moment we got back to camp, that was just what we did. We submerged the phone in a big bucket of uncooked white rice. I looked down, highly dubious. How long will this take? Day or two. No good. I need a solution now. Mike and I worked out a plan. I could write a letter to Meg, which he’d take home with him to Maun. Teej could then photograph the letter and text it to Meg. (She had Meg’s number on her phone: I’d given it to her when she first went to collect Meg from the airport.) Now I just had to write that letter. The first challenge was finding a pen among that bunch of muppets. Does anyone have a pen? A what? A pen. I’ve got an EpiPen! No! A pen. A biro! My kingdom for a biro! Oh. A biro. Wow. Somehow I found one. The next challenge was finding a place to compose. I went off under a tree. I thought. I stared into space. I wrote: Hey Beautiful. OK you got me—can’t stop thinking about you, missing you, LOTS. Phone went in river. Sad face…Apart from that, having an amazing time. Wish u were here. Mike left, letter in hand.
Prince Harry, The Duke of Sussex.
Isn't that Millie Mackintosh who smegz dumped just after that pic was takenFound it - as if you could cycle in that stupid long dress...so chic...so feckin' basic
This isn't a 22 year old, its a 36 year old divorcee acting like she is 22
View attachment 1872080
We use cookies and similar technologies for the following purposes:
Do you accept cookies and these technologies?
We use cookies and similar technologies for the following purposes:
Do you accept cookies and these technologies?