Harry and Meghan #298 The half price Prince

[Shemakesmemad]

Second date with Meghan
This time I was already there—waiting. Smiling. Proud of myself. She walked in, wearing a pretty blue sundress with white pinstripes. She was aglow. I stood and said: I bear gifts. A pink box. I held it forward. She shook it. What’s this? No, no, don’t shake it! We both laughed. She opened the box. Cupcakes. Red, white and blue cupcakes, to be exact. In honor of Independence Day. I said something about the Brits having a very different view of Independence Day from the Yanks, but, oh, well. She said they looked amazing. Our waitress from Date One appeared. Mischa. She seemed genuinely happy to see us, to discover that there was a Date Two. She could tell what was happening, she got that she was an eyewitness, that she’d forever be part of our personal mythology. After bringing us a round of drinks she went away and didn’t return for a long time. When she did, we were deep in the middle of a kiss. Not our first.
Meghan, holding my shirt collar, was pulling me towards her, holding me close. When she saw Mischa she released me immediately and we all laughed. Excuse us. No problem. Another round? Again the conversation flowed, crackled. Burgers came and went, uneaten. I felt an overwhelming sense of Overture, Prelude, Kettle Drums, Act I. And yet also a sense of ending. A phase of my life—the first half?—was coming to a close. As the night neared its end we had a very frank discussion. There was no way round it. She put a hand to her cheek and said: What’re we gonna doooo? We have to give this a proper go. What does that even mean? I live in Canada. I’m going back tomorrow! We’ll meet. A long visit. This summer. My summer’s already planned. Mine too. Surely in the whole summer we could find one small spot of time. She shook her head. She was doing the full Eat Pray Love. Eat what now? The book? Ah. Sorry. Not really big on books. I felt intimidated. She was so the opposite of me. She read. She was cultured. Not important, she said with a laugh. The point was, she was going with three girlfriends to Spain, and then with two girlfriends to Italy, and then— She looked at her calendar. I looked at mine. She raised her eyes, smiled. What is it? Tell me. Actually, there’s one small window… Recently, she explained, a castmate had advised her not to be so structured about her summer of eating, praying and loving. Keep one week open, this castmate said, leave room for magic, so she’d been saying no to all kinds of things, reserving one week, even turning down a very dreamy bike trip through the lavender fields of southern France… I looked at my calendar and said: I have one week open as well. What if they’re the same week? What if? Is it possible? How crazy would that be? It was the same week.

Prince Harry, The Duke of Sussex.

Nope I’m off again…

 

[Rosesarepink]

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

1 tear left eye go....

 

[Meemew]

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

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.

www.dailymail.co.uk

So Catherine was right, they were a mess and needed to be remade.

He seems very nice though!

 

[purple_soph]

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! He whipped out his phone and followed her to the deli counter, snapping away while she looked at the turkey. F the turkey, she thought, hurrying to the checkouts. He followed her there too. She got into the queue. Before her were rows and rows of magazines and newspapers, and on all of them, under the most shocking and disgusting headlines…was her. The other customers noticed as well. They looked at the magazines, looked at her, and now they too pulled out their phones, like zombies. Meg caught two cashiers sharing a horrible smile. After paying for her groceries, she walked outside, straight into a group of four men with their iPhones aimed at her. She kept her head down, rushed up Kensington High Street. She was nearly home when a horse-drawn carriage came rolling out of Kensington Palace Gardens. Some sort of parade: the Palace gate was blocked. She was forced back along the main road, where the four men picked up the scent again, and chased her all the way to the main gate, screaming her name. When she finally got inside Nott Cott, she’d phoned her best girlfriends, each of whom asked: Is he worth this, Meg? Is anyone worth this? I put my arms around her, said I was sorry. So sorry. We just held each other, until I slowly became aware of the most delicious smells. I looked around. Hang on. You mean…after all that…you still made lunch? I wanted to feed you before I left.

Prince Harry, The Duke of Sussex.

This is just insane! There is no way she would have been recognised, she wasn’t even the main character in Suits as far as I am aware? And the vast majority of the UK TV viewing audience had NEVER seen it! She wishes she could have been that famous though….
I also think she just doesn’t look unique enough to have been recognised, people would have just thought she was just an attractive woman ( with the slap on) looking a bit stupid wearing Hunter wellies. Someone like eg Calista Flockart from the considerably more popular Ally McBeale when it was on may well have been recognised

Did those headlines really exist in the gossip magazines in the UK when they first started dating? I don’t remember them. Perhaps we should go and check the back copies, we know the date when she was papped going to Wholefoods in her wellies I think?

 

[WanderingAimlessly]

It’s almost like they took the Wiki and worked through it answering back to every mocking and criticism directed at them, particularly her. It’s not his story, it’s her clap back.

 

[TheCutiePatootie]

NEXT WAS WILLY. I knew he’d kill me if I let it go another minute. So Meg and I popped over one afternoon, shortly before he and I were due to leave on a shooting trip. Walking up to apartment 1A, under the huge arch, through the courtyard, I felt more nervous than I had before the meeting with Granny. I asked myself why. No answer came to mind. We climbed the gray stone steps, rang the bell. No reply. After a wait the door opened and there was my big brother, a bit dressed up. Nice trousers, nice shirt, open collar.
I introduced Meg, who leaned in and gave him a hug, which completely freaked him out. He recoiled. Willy didn’t hug many strangers. Whereas Meg hugged most strangers. The moment was a classic collision of cultures, like flashlight-torch, which felt to me both funny and charming. Later, however, looking back, I wondered if it was more than that. Maybe Willy expected Meg to curtsy? It would’ve been protocol when meeting a member of the Royal Family for the first time, but she didn’t know, and I didn’t tell her. When meeting my grandmother, I’d made it clear—this is the Queen. But when meeting my brother, it was just Willy, who loved Suits.

Prince Harry, The Duke of Sussex

She thought she was meeting a fan and turned on the charm only to be rebuffed

It's so funny that after 6 years they are still telling this hug story.

It really must have hurt her that he didn't want to hug her.

 

[kata420]

Things have taken a very sour note for Harry. Lots of sources on Twitter are relaying the rape and serious assault allegations. He’s fucked.

I keep thinking about the dogs broken legs…

ETA: if true, I hope he gets what’s coming to him. Meghan now had the perfect excuse to walk away and come out smelling of roses. This is a story she will definitely be able to promote and monetise and people will love her for it. Have to give it to her.

 

[Anna2020]

Off to bed, tomorrow i can do rest of the book.
Last few chapters were, i cant find words to describe it.

 

[Kotare]

I believe that the bullying incident was the main thing that forced them to leave, because Meghan felt she really couldn’t get ahead of that one and that it would eventually be made public. After that, they worked tirelessly to try and keep the whole thing under wraps and as usual with Meghan, control the narrative.

She had zero experience at managing people in any respect. She literally took the position of boss over far more qualified staff with no training and worse, little inclination to learn. She was totally unfamiliar with “noblesse oblige”. It seems clear that from everything I observed about her she is by nature manipulative and always wants her way. It goes that she would expect staff to work to this end and that creating tumultuous conflict is her happy place. She gets off on it. While I get that someone brought up in a completely different culture might need some slack cut, it’s really no excuse. Trans Atlantic corporate world is full of successful stories. She was spoiled rotten, her recently minted minor cable tv fame, she felt, gave her status equal or better than the BRF and certainly the common old staff. She is always right, not negotiable - period !

I enclose the wiki of what ‘noblesse oblige’ is and it appears that whatever rudeness Harry had inherently, Meghan has amplified it.
At best they simply aren’t nice people, (I think Harry is far more like Uncle Andrew than his brother) and at worst they’re positively evil narcissists in a folie à deux.

 

[jonathanlynch]

The sheer awfulness of the excerpts completely neutralises his attacks on his family. It shows what deranged behaviour they and the staff had to put up with behind the scenes. The best part is that it being a bestseller and fastest selling non-fiction book getting picked up as a win by desperate supporters misses the point that it is only selling because of how cringe the leaks have been that people are wanting to read it all the more.

The only end of writing is to enable readers better to enjoy life or better to endure it as Samuel Johnson said. Spare accomolishes both. It being released during the most depressing month of the year was a masterstroke by Penguin. It has given us all a fantastic laugh at the expense of a celebrated bell to see out the month of January.

 

[Meemew]

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.

I had literally never heard of this show or Smegs until she was announced as Harry’s girlfriend from Suits.

I hope they issue a Cease and Desist - We did not fucking watch Suits.

 

[Anna2020]

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.

 

[Tangent Tiger]

Harry's really wedded to the notion that everyone was jealous of Meghan

 

[LadyBee_Aus]

My poor reaction button is getting a workout reading all these Spare excerpts! What utter drivel this book is!

Thank you Saint @Anna2020 …. I couldn’t stomach reading this schmaltz but can *just* manage the snippets you are posting. Seriously, this is woefully written. I thought the ghostwriter might have helped, but I guess he really did leave it in Harry’s Megz words.

 

[Anna2020]

I rang Pa yet again. Don’t read it, darling— I cut him off. I wasn’t about to hear that nonsense again.
Also, I wasn’t a boy anymore. I tried a new argument. I reminded Pa that these were the same shoddy bastards who’d been portraying him as a clown all his life, ridiculing him for sounding the alarm about climate change. These were his tormentors, his bullies, and now they were tormenting and bullying his son and his son’s girlfriend—did that not inspire his outrage? Why have I got to beg you, Pa? Why is this not already a priority for you? Why is this not causing you anguish, keeping you up at night, that the press are treating Meg like this? You adore her, you told me so yourself. You bonded over your shared love of music, you think she’s funny and witty, and impeccably mannered, you told me—so why, Pa? Why? I couldn’t get a straight answer. The conversation went in circles and when we hung up I felt—abandoned. Meg, meanwhile, reached out to Camilla, who tried to counsel her by saying this was just what the press always did to newcomers, that it would all pass in due time, that Camilla had been the bad guy once. The implication being what? Now it was Meg’s turn? As if it were apples to apples.
Camilla also suggested to Meg that I become Governor General of Bermuda, which would solve all our problems by removing us from the red-hot center of the maelstrom. Right, right, I thought, and one added bonus of that plan would be to get us out of the picture.

Prince Harry, The Duke of Sussex.

 

[Churchill's Ghost]

I WALKED home from the office and found Meg sitting on the stairs.
She was sobbing. Uncontrollably.
My love, what’s happened? I thought for sure we’d lost the baby. I went to her on my knees.
She choked out that she didn’t want to do this anymore.
Do what?
Live.
I didn’t catch her meaning at first. I didn’t understand, maybe didn’t want to understand. My mind just didn’t want to process the words.
It’s all so painful, she was saying.
What is?
To be hated like this—for what? What had she done? she asked.
She really wanted to know. What sin had she committed to deserve this kind of treatment?
She just wanted to make the pain stop, she said. Not only for her, for everyone. For me, for her mother. But she couldn’t make it stop, so she’d decided to disappear.
Disappear?
Without her, she said, all the press would go away, and then I wouldn’t have to live like this.
Our unborn child would never have to live like this.
It’s so clear, she kept saying, it’s so clear. Just stop breathing. Stop being. This exists because I exist.
I begged her not to talk like that. I promised her we’d get through it, we’d find a way. In the meantime, we’d find her the help she needed. I asked her to be strong, hang on.
Incredibly, while reassuring her, and hugging her, I couldn’t entirely stop thinking like a fucking royal. We had a Sentebale engagement that night, at the Royal Albert Hall, and I kept telling myself: We can’t be late. We cannot be late. They’ll skin us alive! And they’ll blame her. Slowly—too slowly—I realized that tardiness was the least of our problems.
I said she should skip the engagement, of course.
I needed to go, make a quick appearance, but I’d be home fast.
No, she insisted, she didn’t trust herself to be at home alone for even an hour with such dark feelings.
So we put on our best kit, and she applied dark, dark lipstick to draw attention away from her bloodshot eyes, and out of the door we went.
The car pulled up outside the Royal Albert Hall, and as we stepped into the blue flashing lights of the police escort and the whiteout lights of the press’s flashbulbs, Meg reached for my hand. She gripped it tightly. As we went inside, she gripped it even tighter.
I was buoyed by the tightness of that grip. She’s hanging on, I thought. Better than letting go.
But when we settled into the royal box, and the lights dimmed, she let go of her emotions. She couldn’t hold back the tears. She wept silently. The music struck up, we turned and faced the front. We spent the entire length of the performance (Cirque du Soleil) squeezing each other’s hands, me promising her in a whisper: Trust me. I’ll keep you safe.

Prince Harry, The Duke of Sussex.

We all saw the photos dipwad. She was not crying in the least

This entire book is what she was talking about at the end of The Cut article. She knew that she had written this drivel which is nothing more than a point by point rebuttal of every single thing that has been written about her with a healthy dollop of narc

Does this bitch ever stop weeping, sobbing. collapsing?

 

[Shemakesmemad]

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.

I just can’t

 

[cantstandinfluencers]

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

Reading extracts from it - you’d think it was the 1st of April & this was just a prank.
Harry is a fool.

 

[Churchill's Ghost]

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

That deserves a row of dancing mushies!!

 

[PurvyPanda]

I STOOD AT THE ALTAR, smoothed the front of my Household Cavalry uniform, watched Meg floating towards me. I’d worked hard to choose the right music for her procession, and ultimately I’d landed on Handel’s Eternal Source of Light Divine. Now, as the soloist’s voice rang out above our heads, I thought I’d chosen well. Indeed, as Meg came nearer and nearer, I was giving thanks for all my choices.
Amazing that I could even hear the music over the sound of my own heartbeat as Meg stepped up, took my hand.
The present dissolved, the past came rushing back. Our first tentative messages on Instagram. Our first meeting at Soho House. Our first trip to Botswana. Our first excited exchanges after my phone went into the river. Our first roast chicken. Our first flights back and forth across the Atlantic. The first time I told her: I love you. Hearing her say it back. Guy in splints. Steve the grumpy swan. The brutal fight to keep her safe from the press. And now here we were, the finishing line. The starting line. For the last few months, not much had gone according to plan. But I reminded myself that none of that was the plan. This was the plan. This. Love. I shot a glance at Pa, who’d walked Meg down the last part of the aisle. Not her father, but special just the same, and she was moved. It didn’t make up for her father’s behavior, for how the press had used him, but it very much helped.
Aunt Jane stood and gave a reading in honor of Mummy. Song of Solomon. Meg and I chose it.
Arise, my love, my fair one, and come away…
Set me as a seal upon your heart, as a seal upon your arm;
For love is strong as death, passion fierce as the grave…
Strong as death. Fierce as the grave. Yes, I thought. Yes. I saw the archbishop extend the rings, his hands shaking. I’d forgotten, but he clearly hadn’t: twelve cameras pointed at us, two billion people watching on TV, photographers in the rafters, massive crowds outside roistering and cheering. We exchanged the rings, Meg’s made from the same hunk of Welsh gold that had provided Kate’s. Granny had told me that this was nearly the last of it. Last of the gold. That was how I felt about Meg. The archbishop reached the official part, spoke the few words that made us The Duke and Duchess of Sussex, titles bestowed by Granny, and he joined us until death parted us, though he’d already done similar days earlier, in our garden, a small ceremony, just the two of us, Guy and Pula the only witnesses. Unofficial, non-binding, except in our souls.
We were grateful for every person in and around St. George’s, and watching on TV, but our love began in private, and being public had been mostly pain, so we wanted the first consecration of our love, the first vows, to be private as well. Magical as the formal ceremony was, we’d both come to feel slightly frightened of…crowds. Underscoring this feeling: The first thing we saw upon walking back up the aisle and out of the church, other than a stream of smiling faces, were snipers. On the rooftops, amid the bunting, behind the waterfalls of streamers.
Police told me it was unusual, but necessary. Due to the unprecedented number of threats they were picking up.

Prince Harry, The Duke of Sussex.

Misinformation


From Google:

What is the most watched royal wedding ever?


On April 29, 2011, Prince William and Kate Middleton were married in an extravagant royal wedding at Westminster Abbey. It was watched by an estimated two billion people around the world, making it the most-watched event in history. 28 Jan 2022

According to the source, almost 23.7 million households watched the wedding of Prince Harry and Meghan Markle in May 2018, amounting to a total of 29.19 million viewers.