Why didnt he just use Teej's phone and send her an email saying his phone had broken, would have been quicker!Then I looked at the Jet Ski. Floating on its side. tit. 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.
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Why didnt he just use Teej's phone and send her an email saying his phone had broken, would have been quicker!
i think that is what Harry is trying to do, that is what he wants us to think. He always brings up SPAREvsHEIR.
Yeah, but I still think Willy is a bit of a dick
I think they all are … we really should stop being amazed that people who are born into a basically closed bubble, raised with a sense of entitlement and are told from birth how special they are and how much better they are than everyone else … act entitled and better than everyone else and struggle when they have to interact with people out side their bubble,Yeah, but I still think Willy is a bit of a dick
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
Prince Harry, The Duke of Sussex
What an deprive us of a love letter for the ages <sad face> <shocked face>
If only he’d kept the biro his Auntie Margaret had given him that Christmas… a sign from another “spare”.
I 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
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
He called her "heart-attack beautiful"? Didn't his mum go into cardiac arrest shortly after the crash? I have never heard that expression before. Heart-stoppingly beautiful, maybe?
When I was Googling Diana I found this. I've never heard this before
When I was Googling Diana I found this. I've never heard this before
Our dinner guests were my cousin Euge, her boyfriend Jack, and my mate Charlie. The salmon turned out perfectly and everyone complimented Meg on her culinary talents. They also devoured her stories. They wanted to hear all about Suits. And her travels. I was grateful for their interest, their warmth. The wine was as good as the company, and there was plenty of it, and after dinner we moved into the snug, put on music and silly hats, and danced. I have a fuzzy memory, and a grainy video on my phone, of Charlie and me rolling on the floor while Meg sat nearby laughing. Then we got into the tequila. I remember Euge hugging Meg, as if they were sisters. I remember Charlie giving me a thumbs-up. I remember thinking: If meeting the rest of my family goes like this, we’re home free. But then I noticed that Meg was feeling poorly. She complained of an upset stomach and looked terribly pale. I thought: Uh-oh, lightweight. She took herself off to bed. After a nightcap I saw our guests out and tidied up a bit. I got into bed around midnight and crashed out, but I woke at two A.M. to hear her in the bathroom, being sick, truly sick, not the drunken sick I’d imagined. Something else was going on. Food poisoning. She revealed that she’d had squid for lunch at a restaurant. British calamari! Mystery solved. From the floor she said softly: Please tell me you’re not having to hold back my hair while I’m vomiting. Yes. I am. I rubbed her back and eventually put her to bed. Weak, near tears, she said she’d imagined a very different end to Date Four. Stop, I said. Taking care of each other? That’s the point. That’s love, I thought, though I managed to keep the words inside.
Prince Harry, The Duke of Sussex
Prince Harry, The Duke of Sussex
I am wincing. I read this extract thinking, "people don't actually talk like this, do they?"
Do they?!
We agreed that if we were serious about giving ourselves a chance, a real chance, we’d need a serious plan. Which meant, among other things, making a vow never to let more than two weeks pass without seeing each other.
We’d both had long-distance relationships, and they’d always been hard, and part of the reason had always been lack of serious planning. Effort. You had to fight the distance, defeat that distance. Meaning, travel. Lots and lots of travel.
The burden therefore would fall on Meg. In the early days, it would have to be her spending time on planes, her crisscrossing the ocean—while still working full-time on Suits. Many days the car came for her at 4:15 A.M. to take her to set. It wasn’t fair for her to shoulder the burden, but she was willing, she said. No choice, she said. The alternative was not seeing me, and that, she said, wasn’t feasible. Or bearable. For the hundredth time since July 1, my heart cracked open. Then we said goodbye again. See you in two weeks. Two weeks. God. Yes.
Prince Harry, The Duke of Sussex
We’d both had long-distance relationships, and they’d always been hard, and part of the reason had always been lack of serious planning. Effort. You had to fight the distance, defeat that distance. Meaning, travel. Lots and lots of travel.
The burden therefore would fall on Meg. In the early days, it would have to be her spending time on planes, her crisscrossing the ocean—while still working full-time on Suits. Many days the car came for her at 4:15 A.M. to take her to set. It wasn’t fair for her to shoulder the burden, but she was willing, she said. No choice, she said. The alternative was not seeing me, and that, she said, wasn’t feasible. Or bearable. For the hundredth time since July 1, my heart cracked open. Then we said goodbye again. See you in two weeks. Two weeks. God. Yes.
Prince Harry, The Duke of Sussex
Still creased he apparently experienced love at first through the bleeping Snapchat dog filter.
SOON AFTER THAT DAY, Willy and Kate invited me over to dinner. They knew something was going on with me and they wanted to find out what it was. I wasn’t sure I was ready to tell them. I wasn’t sure I wanted anyone else to know just yet. But then, as we sat around their TV room, both kids tucked into bed, the moment felt right. I casually mentioned that there was…a new woman in my life.
They surged forward. Who is she? I’ll tell you, but please, please, please, I need you both to keep it a secret. Yes, Harold, yes, yes—who is it? She’s an actress. Oh? She’s American. Oh. On a show called Suits.
Their mouths fell open. They turned to each other. Then Willy turned to me and said: duck off! What? No way. Sorry? Impossible! I was baffled, until Willy and Kate explained that they were regular—nay, religious—viewers of Suits. Great, I thought, laughing. I’ve been worrying about the wrong thing. All this time I’d thought Willy and Kate might not welcome Meg into the family, but now I had to worry about them hounding her for an autograph. They barraged me with questions. I told them a bit of how we’d met, told them about Botswana, told them about Waitrose, told them I was smitten, but overall what I told them was heavily redacted. I just didn’t want to give away too much. I also said I couldn’t wait for them to meet her, that I looked forward to the four of us spending lots of time together, and I confessed, for the umpteenth time, that this had long been my dream—to join them with an equal partner. To become a foursome. I’d said this to Willy so many times, and he’d always replied: It might not happen, Harold! And you’ve got to be OK with that. Well, now I felt that it was going to happen, and I told him so—but he still said to slow down. She’s an American actress after all, Harold. Anything might happen. I nodded, a bit hurt. Then hugged him and Kate and left.
Prince Harry, The Duke of Sussex
They surged forward. Who is she? I’ll tell you, but please, please, please, I need you both to keep it a secret. Yes, Harold, yes, yes—who is it? She’s an actress. Oh? She’s American. Oh. On a show called Suits.
Their mouths fell open. They turned to each other. Then Willy turned to me and said: duck off! What? No way. Sorry? Impossible! I was baffled, until Willy and Kate explained that they were regular—nay, religious—viewers of Suits. Great, I thought, laughing. I’ve been worrying about the wrong thing. All this time I’d thought Willy and Kate might not welcome Meg into the family, but now I had to worry about them hounding her for an autograph. They barraged me with questions. I told them a bit of how we’d met, told them about Botswana, told them about Waitrose, told them I was smitten, but overall what I told them was heavily redacted. I just didn’t want to give away too much. I also said I couldn’t wait for them to meet her, that I looked forward to the four of us spending lots of time together, and I confessed, for the umpteenth time, that this had long been my dream—to join them with an equal partner. To become a foursome. I’d said this to Willy so many times, and he’d always replied: It might not happen, Harold! And you’ve got to be OK with that. Well, now I felt that it was going to happen, and I told him so—but he still said to slow down. She’s an American actress after all, Harold. Anything might happen. I nodded, a bit hurt. Then hugged him and Kate and left.
Prince Harry, The Duke of Sussex
I agree. All Harry has shown is just how out of touch and entitled he is, but he is a product of his upbringing. They are all like that, just he was stupid enough to reveal himself to the plebs and tell them what an entitled twit he is.
Like if people would recognize Prince Harry in a small run-down airport in a small city in Africa in the bush. His ego is so inflated.
Meghan so wrote some of this… heart attack beautiful!
I agree. He's named a lot of staff from his schools which seems totally unnecessary especially to poor Pat. I've only read that far in the book but I know from the weekend that there's loads more to come. I think he deserves loads of criticism but not this cartoon. It's as bad as Jeremy Clarkson, worse even because at least he could claim he was referencing GOT. What sick mind came up with this cartoon?
I think Charlie Hebdo are total tit stirrers - they won't even be condemned in the same way Clarkson was because they're doing 'satire and provoking debate' and somehow it's seen as more high brow. All they're doing is piggybacking on the publicity for the book to get their name out there again. It's added nothing to the debate and I do think an image like this of a dead woman, who did no great harm when she was alive, should be off limits.
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