It must grate on grafter Prince William that Harry and Meghan stole the show
ANYONE who has been a single parent might recognise the analogy I’m about to make.
Day in, day out, you’re the one holding the fort and doing all the mundane tasks such as making sure they eat their breakfast, checking their kit bag and imposing strict homework rules.
Then, once a week, “movie-star parent” descends — energised by a week of no responsibility, social spontaneity and adult conversation — to whisk aforementioned child/children off for a day of unbridled glamour at, say, a theme park, followed by a cinema outing.
Where, of course, they eat their own weight in e-numbers before being delivered back to boring old you in a state of frenzied over-tiredness.
Worse, the movie-star parent often has a shiny new partner in tow — perhaps, God forbid, even the one whose arrival actually precipitated the split.
This analogy sprang to mind while observing the awkward body language between Prince William and his brother Harry at Westminster Abbey on Monday. It was reminiscent of an especially awkward wedding where the child’s acrimoniously divorced parents and new partners are trying their best to be polite and not spoil the day, but the tension is palpable.
And, quite frankly, how could it not be?
When the Sussexes decided that royal duties were a bit tedious for them and they would rather have a life of pick-and-choose your responsibilities, William and the equally dutiful Kate stayed home and held the fort, doing extra shares of the necessary but occasionally draining minutiae of everyday royal life.
Then, after weeks of the Cambridges putting in hard graft around the pubs, sports clubs etc of the UK and Republic of Ireland, the “children” (that’s us, by the way) were distracted by the movie-star absentees gracing us with a teensy-weensy bit of their time before vanishing again.
Like an ex-girlfriend knowing she’s about to see a former love, Meghan went all-out with bright, show-stopping outfits guaranteed to pull focus, and the result was this incredible photo straight from the “Is it still raining? I hadn’t noticed” school of schmaltz.
Let’s face it, they stole the show. And for William and Kate it must take oceanic depths of self-worth for it not to grate in the extreme.
THEY'VE BURNED THEIR BOATS
But it must also be a source of deep sadness that, in the very same abbey where they bade a traumatic farewell to their mother Diana more than 22 years ago, the brothers have come to this.
Indeed, there were several moments over the past few days when Harry’s smile slipped and, perhaps pondering what he’s giving up, he looked genuinely lost and sad.
Amid the awkwardness, one senior royal who made a special effort to turn and speak to the Sussexes was Camilla — a woman who faced far harsher criticism than Meghan when she first joined the Royal Family.
If only the Sussexes had followed her example and simply stuck it out while getting on with the job in hand, it might have been a story with a very different ending.
There is no doubt that Harry and Meghan are in love, but the fact that they clung so desperately to each other (even when he was in military uniform) is perhaps symbolic of quite how much they’ve burned their boats and feel marooned on an island of their own making.
Such sacrifice puts extra pressure on the relationship to be a success, and I hope for both their sakes that it is.
But if not, though love can sometimes fade or descend in to acrimony, family ties may sometimes stretch to extremes but rarely snap completely.
The Sussexes’ HRH titles currently lay dormant but, in the case of divorce, Meghan would lose hers and Harry could reactivate his on return to the UK.
In other words, the Palace gate is still open should the Queen’s impetuous grandson ever choose to walk back through it.
A roll lot of panic
ON a trip to Cuba in January, we walked past a long line of locals queuing for toilet roll and I commented to my friend: “Imagine having to do that.”
I even took a photo of a man emerging from the shop with 16 rolls of it tucked under his arm.
Fast forward two months and he’s got nothing on the frenzied mob I encountered at my local Asda on Saturday.
And check out this bloke’s trolley in Bournemouth – laden down with at least 96 rolls of it. Even his dog clearly thinks he’s lost the plot.
As a keep-calm-and-carry-on type, I’ll admit I’m struggling to maintain this stance amid the panic that’s spreading faster than any virus ever could.
Particularly as I’m married to Mr Catastrophe of Worst Case Scenario Street.
Not only has he curdled all our pump-action hand soaps by adding vodka to them, he’s currently refusing to join me and the youngest on a long-planned trip to Morocco next weekend.
Although there are currently just two cases there – both brought in by locals returning from Italy – he’s worried about us being refused entry back in to the UK and our daughter missing her GCSEs that start in, er, mid-May.
In the words of the almighty Clash – should I stay or should I go?
Watch this heavily sanitised space.
About time
VICTIMS of violent or sexual crime are to get the automatic right to know when their attacker is to be released from jail.
The only surprise is that they don’t already.
Phoney is a true original
BACK in the early Nineties I broke a story about a fake aristocrat called “Lady Rosemary Aberdour”.
While pretending to be something she wasn’t, she stole £2.7million (now worth about £5.8million) from her employers – the National Hospital Development Foundation – and spent it on a riverside penthouse, lavish parties and limos.
It was such a tale of deceit and excess that BBC1 made the 1995 documentary Scam!, featuring moi as the young reporter who exposed her criminality.
She was sent to prison for four years and, after marrying, is now known as Rosemary Cubbin.
Last week she was back in court – this time being accused by her brother Robert of misappropriating funds from their late father’s estate.
In an online world where scammers are now ten a penny, she was truly one of the originals.
A bit thick
HOW disappointing that certain students at Oxford University no-platformed former Home Secretary Amber Rudd over the Windrush scandal from which an inquiry later exonerated her.
Not least because they’re supposed to be clever and it’s just a bit thick.
Throne of game on way
JAPANESE company Bauhutte is now selling a £820 “gaming bed” for online addicts who can’t be bothered sitting up.
It also makes an all-in-one “gaming suit” with a hood large enough to accommodate headphones and an easy-access zip around the crotch and buttocks to make trips to the loo as rapid as possible.
It can only be a matter of time before the “gaming commode” is offered and, with it, the final descent towards a hellish world of immobile, morbidly obese Jabba The Hutts.
Richer than yaau
WHEN it comes to collectible items, Hermes bags outperform fine wine, jewellery, watches and art.
That may be, but the only time I tried on a friend’s fake one for size, I found it unwieldy and, thanks to the strap and buckle combo, a complete pain to get in and out of.
But then, owning one isn’t really about comfort or useability, is it?
It’s just telling everyone else that, in the immortal words of Harry Enfield’s self-made Brummie million-aire: “I’m con-siderably richer than yaau.”
Lust too much today
SIR PAUL McCartney has spoken fondly of how the racier parts of certain literature made him a better songwriter.
He says: “I had this one guy who was my English Literature teacher and he turned me on.
MOST READ IN OPINION
“He showed me the dirty bits in Chaucer.
“And for a 16-year-old boy . . . wow, I’m loving this!
“I said, ‘Are you sure I should be reading this?’ He says, ‘It’s not in the curriculum, but . . .’ ”
One can only assume that 77-year-old Sir Paul’s inspirational teacher is now dead or the woeful Operation Midland might be resurrected.
- GOT a story? RING The Sun on 0207 782 4104 or WHATSAPP on 07423720250 or EMAIL [email protected]