"HELLO, Sir," I said to Prince William when we first met nearly 30 years ago.
A tall, shy 13-year-old boy with braces on his teeth tentatively shook my hand at Kensington Palace.
His mother, Princess Diana, had invited me to a private lunch – I was editor the Daily Mirror at the time – and at the last minute, asked if I minded her elder son joining us.
"That would be terribly inconvenient," I replied, deadpan.
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Diana blushed slightly and started a stuttering "Yes, of course, I’m so sorry…" apology before I burst out laughing.
"Ma’am, I think I can stretch to allowing the future King to join me for lunch!"
What followed was the most extraordinary meal of my life in which Diana opened up about everything in her life from her failed marriage and numerous boyfriends to her cellulite and the future of the Monarchy, as William eyed me throughout like a suspicious young dolphin encountering a hungry shark.
He was a polite, intelligent, mature-beyond-his years, quite intense young man who was clearly very close to, and protective of his mother.
But there was one moment which has always stuck in my mind.
William asked for a glass of wine to match mine, and Diana, mindful of how such underage boozing would look to a scoop-ravenous tabloid news hound, instantly snapped "No, William, what are you thinking?"
He replied: "But Mummy, I drink it all the time."
";Erm, you don’t actually, and you can’t have any!" she exclaimed, nervously.
"Yes, I do, and yes, I can!" he chuckled.
And he then did.
This, I thought, was a boy who knew his own mind, and had a slightly naughty, rebellious streak.
We met a few more times after that, and he was always charm personified, once prodding my stomach at a party and guffawing: "That’s not a six-pack, Piers, that’s a keg!"
But I’ve never kidded myself.
William’s always seen the media as the enemy, especially since Diana’s tragic death.
He’s just learned to tolerate and work with us, unlike his hot-headed brother Harry who prefers to wage constant hypocritical warfare with journalists for doing the same thing he does to his family week in, week out.
And whilst most of my media colleagues share my contempt for the Duke of Netflix over the way he’s publicly smeared and abused the Royals to enrich himself, they also share my huge admiration for William who’s chosen the complete opposite path.
I watched him at Sunday night’s Bafta awards, flitting amongst the Hollywood greats with supreme ease and "the show must go on" professionalism, and marvelled at how calm and untroubled he appeared to be despite everything going on behind the scenes in his life.
Just consider what William’s been through in recent years.
He lost both his beloved grandparents and, as with his mother, was compelled by protocol to mourn for them in public at massive globally televised funerals.
He’s lost his only sibling too, in a different way, feeling such rage at the way Harry has betrayed him so egregiously that he understandably wants nothing more to do with him.
And now he’s had to deal with two more huge challenges: his wife Catherine going through serious abdominal surgery for an unknown condition that’s left her incapacitated for months, and his father King Charles being diagnosed with cancer.
William must be going through considerable private turmoil, but we’d never know it.
Unlike his brother, he doesn’t play the victim, or feel the need to constantly yap to the world about his problems.
Instead, he just gets on with things without seeking an ounce of sympathy, and with remarkable dignity and humility, even apologising for belatedly deciding to attend the Baftas on his own and for not watching enough of the films due to his wife’s illness.
Also, this weekend William announced plans to build 24 homes in the West Country to provide temporary accommodation for the homeless on Duchy of Cornwall land.
That was another sign of the key business of the Royal Family – not exploiting titles for cash like Harry but dutifully serving the needs of the most vulnerable members of the British public - continuing, regardless of what drama is unfolding in their personal lives.
Make no mistake: this is a very uneasy, turbulent time for the Royals.
The concept of a slimmed-down Monarchy with far fewer working members was heralded as a great idea when first mooted by Charles when he was Prince of Wales.
And we all cheered at the Queen’s Platinum Jubilee when the balcony was restricted to the main superstars led by Her Majesty, while the likes of disgraced Prince Andrew and shameful Harry were dumped into unceremonious obscurity.
But look how fragile it all suddenly looks now with her sadly gone, her son and heir stricken with cancer, and Catherine also out of action.
The answer to this crisis is not Harry returning into any part-time working royal action as he is clearly so desperate to do to keep the Sussex coffers flowing. He’s made his treasonous bed in California and can lie in his filthy dollars.
No, the answer is William, who’s proven to be a wonderfully reliable rock of quiet, determined, dutiful, uncomplaining stability amid all the uncertainty.
If we were drinking another glass of wine together, I’d raise this toast to him:
"Cheers Sir, you’re playing a blinder."
