But then the smell reminded him of his mum as he opened it and rubbed it on the Crown Jewels.At least Elizbeth Arden got a free plug that their cream works on a frostbitten penis
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I WAS SITTING around Nott Cott, scrolling through Instagram. In my feed I saw a video: My friend Violet. And a young woman. They were playing with a new app that put silly filters on your photos. Violet and the woman had dog ears, dog noses, long red dog tongues hanging out. Despite the canine cartoon overlay, I sat up straighter. This woman with Violetā¦my God. I watched the video several times, then forced myself to put down the phone. Then picked it up again, watched the video again. Iād traveled the world, from top to bottom, literally. Iād hopscotched the continents. Iād met hundreds of thousands of people, Iād crossed paths with a ludicrously large cross-section of the planetās seven billion residents. For thirty-two years Iād watched a conveyor-belt of faces pass by and only a handful ever made me look twice. This woman stopped the conveyor-belt. This woman smashed the conveyor-belt to bits. Iād never seen anyone so beautiful.
Prince Harry, The Duke of SussexÄ
Prince Harry, The Duke of SussexÄ
Because it helps with his healing ... bollocks to the position and danger it puts anyone else in.
That doesn't mean his mother or her other relatives deserve that cartoon of her.
But this womanās beauty, and my response to it, wasnāt based merely on symmetry. There was an energy about her, a wild joy and playfulness. There was something in the way she smiled, the way she interacted with Violet, the way she gazed into the camera. Confident. Free. She believed life was one grand adventure, I could see that. What a privilege it would be, I thought, to join her on that journey. I got all of that from her face. Her luminous, angelic face. Iād never had a firm opinion on that burning question: Is there just one person on this earth for each of us? But in that moment I felt there might be only one face for me. This one. I sent Violet a message. Whoā¦isā¦thisā¦woman? She answered straightaway. Yeah, Iāve had six other guys ask me.
Prince Harry, The Duke of Sussex.
It was Friday, July 1. I was due to leave London the next morning, heading to the home of Sir Keith Mills. I was to take part in a sailing race on Sir Keithās yacht, around the Isle of Wight. Just as I was stuffing the last few things into my overnight bag I glanced at my phone. A message on Instagram.
From the woman. The American. Hello! She said sheād got my info from Violet. She complimented my Instagram page. Beautiful photographs. Thank you. It was mostly photos of Africa. I knew sheād been there, because Iād studied her Instagram page too; Iād seen photos of her hanging out with gorillas in Rwanda. She said sheād done some aid work there as well. With children. We shared thoughts about Africa, photography, travel. Eventually we exchanged phone numbers, and migrated the conversation over to text, going late into the night. In the morning I moved from Nott Cott to the car, without a pause in the texting. I texted with her throughout the long drive to Sir Keithās place, continued through Sir Keithās hallāHow you doing, Sir Keith?āand up the stairs and into his guestroom, where I locked the door and remained holed up, texting. I sat on the bed texting like a teenager until it was time to have dinner with Sir Keith and his family. Then, after dessert, I quickly returned to the guestroom and resumed texting. I couldnāt type fast enough. My thumbs were cramping. There was so much to say, we had so much in common, though we came from such different worlds. She was American, I was British. She was well-educated, I was decidedly not. She was free as a bird, I was in a gilded cage. And yet none of these differences felt disqualifying or even important. On the contrary, they felt organic, energizing. The contradictions created a sense of: Heyā¦I know you. But also: I need to know you. Hey, Iāve known you forever. But also: Iāve been searching for you forever. Hey, thank God youāve arrived. But also: What took you so long?
Prince Harry, The Duke of Sussex.
Prince Harry, The Duke of Sussex.
It was Friday, July 1. I was due to leave London the next morning, heading to the home of Sir Keith Mills. I was to take part in a sailing race on Sir Keithās yacht, around the Isle of Wight. Just as I was stuffing the last few things into my overnight bag I glanced at my phone. A message on Instagram.
From the woman. The American. Hello! She said sheād got my info from Violet. She complimented my Instagram page. Beautiful photographs. Thank you. It was mostly photos of Africa. I knew sheād been there, because Iād studied her Instagram page too; Iād seen photos of her hanging out with gorillas in Rwanda. She said sheād done some aid work there as well. With children. We shared thoughts about Africa, photography, travel. Eventually we exchanged phone numbers, and migrated the conversation over to text, going late into the night. In the morning I moved from Nott Cott to the car, without a pause in the texting. I texted with her throughout the long drive to Sir Keithās place, continued through Sir Keithās hallāHow you doing, Sir Keith?āand up the stairs and into his guestroom, where I locked the door and remained holed up, texting. I sat on the bed texting like a teenager until it was time to have dinner with Sir Keith and his family. Then, after dessert, I quickly returned to the guestroom and resumed texting. I couldnāt type fast enough. My thumbs were cramping. There was so much to say, we had so much in common, though we came from such different worlds. She was American, I was British. She was well-educated, I was decidedly not. She was free as a bird, I was in a gilded cage. And yet none of these differences felt disqualifying or even important. On the contrary, they felt organic, energizing. The contradictions created a sense of: Heyā¦I know you. But also: I need to know you. Hey, Iāve known you forever. But also: Iāve been searching for you forever. Hey, thank God youāve arrived. But also: What took you so long?
Prince Harry, The Duke of Sussex.
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Maybe itās a personal sibling competition between him and Anne? I can actually see that. Either to prove themselves to their parents and still ongoing (unhealthy family dynamics and all) or just as a half friendly half real competition siblings sometimes have.
It is objectively fucked up and nobody is "defending" it. The sentiment in addition to disgust is - well, this is the kind of attention H has attracted, as the saying goes, "Play stupid games, win stupid prizes." It's going to get worse for him.
Diana's dead, it will never matter to her what is in that cartoon, but it matters to William and other people who loved her, and to human decency.
Many times, mid-text, Iād walk over to the window and gaze out. The view made me think of the Okavango. It made me think also of destiny, and serendipity. That convergence of river and sea, land and sky reinforced a vague sense of big things coming together. It occurred to me how uncanny, how surreal, how bizarre, that this marathon conversation should have begun on July 1, 2016. My motherās fifty-fifth birthday.
Prince Harry, The Duke of Sussex.
Prince Harry, The Duke of Sussex.
Oh gosh its so bad its good! thanks @Anna2020 for typing out sections.
This is starting to remind me of the Viz magazine and I've no idea why!
Sir Keithās boat was called Invictus. Homage to the games, God love him. That day it had a crew of eleven, including one or two athletes whoād actually competed in the games. The five-hour race took us around the Needles, and into the teeth of a gale. The wind was so fierce, many other boats dropped out of the race.
The waves were towering. Iād never feared death before, and now I found myself thinking: Please donāt let me drown before my big date. Then another fear took hold. The fear of no onboard loo. I held it in for as long as I possibly could, until I had no choice. I swung my body over the side, into the tossing seaā¦and still couldnāt pee, mainly thanks to stage fright. The whole crew looking. Finally I went back to my post, sheepishly hung from the ropes, and peed my pants. Wow, I thought, if Ms. Markle could see me now. Our boat won our class, came in second overall. Hooray, I said, barely pausing to celebrate with Sir Keith and the crew. My only concern was jumping into that water, washing the pee off my trousers, then racing back to London, where the bigger race, the ultimate race, was about to begin.
Prince Harry, The Duke of Sussex
The waves were towering. Iād never feared death before, and now I found myself thinking: Please donāt let me drown before my big date. Then another fear took hold. The fear of no onboard loo. I held it in for as long as I possibly could, until I had no choice. I swung my body over the side, into the tossing seaā¦and still couldnāt pee, mainly thanks to stage fright. The whole crew looking. Finally I went back to my post, sheepishly hung from the ropes, and peed my pants. Wow, I thought, if Ms. Markle could see me now. Our boat won our class, came in second overall. Hooray, I said, barely pausing to celebrate with Sir Keith and the crew. My only concern was jumping into that water, washing the pee off my trousers, then racing back to London, where the bigger race, the ultimate race, was about to begin.
Prince Harry, The Duke of Sussex
thank you, Eton, Sandhurst and the finest education money can buy.
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. The main thing I noticed was the chasm between internet and reality. Iād 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 filterā¦and even more beautiful. Heart-attack beautiful. I was trying to process this, struggling to understand what was happening to my circulatory and nervous systems, and as a result my brain couldnāt handle any more data. Conversation, pleasantries, the Queenās English, all became a challenge. She filled the gap. She talked about London. She was here all the time, she said. Sometimes she just left her luggage at Soho House for weeks. They stored it without question. The people there were like family. I thought: Youāre in London all the time? How have I never seen you? Never mind that nine million people lived in London, or that I rarely left my house, I felt that if she was here, I shouldāve known. I shouldāve been informed! What brings you here so often? Friends. Business. Oh? Business? Acting was her main job, she said, the thing she was known for, but she had several careers. Lifestyle writer, travel writer, corporate spokesperson, entrepreneur, activist, model. Sheād been all over the world, lived in various countries, worked for the US embassy in Argentinaāher CV was dizzying. All part of the plan, she said. Plan? Help people, do some good, be free.
Prince Harry, The Duke of Sussex
Prince Harry, The Duke of Sussex
I didnāt say it did, a Tattler asked if anyone knew what the wording on the sketch said in English, I responded. I clearly state itās shocking and gave my opinion nothing more but how are you not as offended/disgusted about the hurt Harry will have caused many innocent people, including the loved ones of those he killed and those he mocks in his book? Just because he has a royal title in my eyes makes him no better than anyone else.
As I said before, my father-in-law in WW2 fought in Burma as a very young man. The only way he could do what was asked of him was to do exactly that. Dehumanise the enemy. Because once you start thinking of them as young men as scared as you ā¦ youāre lost.
(although, while he may not have been lost, he was certainly temporarily displaced on and off. Thatās war for you. Young people paying the price).
Second date with Meghan
This time I was already thereāwaiting. 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. Whatās this? No, no, donāt 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 sheād forever be part of our personal mythology. After bringing us a round of drinks she went away and didnāt 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 lifeāthe first half?āwas 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: Whatāre we gonna doooo? We have to give this a proper go. What does that even mean? I live in Canada. Iām going back tomorrow! Weāll meet. A long visit. This summer. My summerās 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 thenā She looked at her calendar. I looked at mine. She raised her eyes, smiled. What is it? Tell me. Actually, thereās one small windowā¦ 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 sheād 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 Franceā¦ I looked at my calendar and said: I have one week open as well. What if theyāre the same week? What if? Is it possible? How crazy would that be? It was the same week.
Prince Harry, The Duke of Sussex.
This time I was already thereāwaiting. 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. Whatās this? No, no, donāt 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 sheād forever be part of our personal mythology. After bringing us a round of drinks she went away and didnāt 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 lifeāthe first half?āwas 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: Whatāre we gonna doooo? We have to give this a proper go. What does that even mean? I live in Canada. Iām going back tomorrow! Weāll meet. A long visit. This summer. My summerās 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 thenā She looked at her calendar. I looked at mine. She raised her eyes, smiled. What is it? Tell me. Actually, thereās one small windowā¦ 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 sheād 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 Franceā¦ I looked at my calendar and said: I have one week open as well. What if theyāre the same week? What if? Is it possible? How crazy would that be? It was the same week.
Prince Harry, The Duke of Sussex.
That's what I ws going to say. I think he's mistaking education tor intelligence!
I never made any comparison between how offensive the cartoon is versus the book. I said I didn't agree that Harry brought this on himself. I understand that the cartoon was drawn because he's in the news at the moment because of the book but I still don't think he brought it on himself. It's a reaction that's totally out of step with every other reaction to the book that I've seen which rightly focusses on Harry and the events discussed in the book.
I think that saying what about what Harry wrote in response to this cartoon is like saying what about Andrew when Harry is criticised. Why can't they both be awful in their own way?
Is Diana in Heaven actually sat with Step-Granny Barbara and working out the royalties?
All a bit ...colonial for two British Princes to be fighting over who is going to save Africa first!
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