Friday, 22nd July 2011

Oh my darlingest journal, I am ever so sorry for neglecting you in recent days. Life has just been a non-stop whirligig since we landed back on Terra Firma from our tour of duty in the Commonwealth. Luckily Granny has forgiven me for flashing my knickers in Calgary and we are now best chums again {phewee!}. She is even lending me BP to exhibit my wedding gown in. At the time of the debacle, she had threatened to relegate the show to some backwater museum I'd never heard of (National Gallery??) but after Philip had a quiet word, she relented and we now have full use of the State Banquet Hall!!!! Hooray!

Do you think my top's too low-cut? I do.

I know she wasn't really listening

We have finally moved into our London pied a terre, a cottage in Ken Pal. I have read outrageous stories in the Mail about my spending £1500 on air fresheners. Lorks! Who thinks I have that amount of dough to splash; it was only a grand and they were Kelly Hoppen. Mummy LOVES Kelly and recently employed her to remodel the house following the wedding. She felt the day room and scullery could do with a spruce up, she's right, they haven't been 'done' for eighteen months (shhh, this is just between us diary) *shameful*

Big Willy and I went to watch 'Bridesmaids' this week in Llandudno. We sat on the back row, bien sur ( I have picked up some French on my travels, you see!) and totes chuckled all the way through. Hilaarious! I may go and see it again with Pipsy when we are in town next week and maybe squeeze in a trip to LK Bennett as I totes wore my nude platform pumps out with all the work I did in Canada.  My poor feet have only just recovered and that's only after two full paraffin pedicure treatment. Cripers! I am just so grateful to have some time to myself finally and recuperate over the summer...

BW and I are having a cosy night in tonight. I am making my speciality croque monsieur (see, more francais!) washed down with a couple of relaxing Smiroff Mules and then early to bed. 

An early morning beckons; I have to be up at 10.30am to head over to Buckers for customary Saturday cakes and tea with Mummy and Daddy. If the sun decides to shine, we may fit in a game of Croquers! Busy, busy bee!

Catherine

Friday, 8th into Saturday 9th July 2011

I am writing this entry from 37,000 ft above whilst flying through the North American skies on our passage to California; I just had to record the unnaturally cruel episode that has just befallen me:

Just past hence, Big Willy took a call from JLP (Jamie Lowther-Pinkerton) back at CH (Clarence House) who told him that news of my 'flashing' incident earlier this day in Calgary (see previous entry) had reached British shores, specifically my beloved Mail Online and that Her Majesty was absolutely NOT AMUSED. He was told Granny was so bitterly disappointed that I, her star pupil, had let the side down so drastically and had plunged the Royal Family into a new annus horribilis of shame!!!!

Immediate images flashed through my decimated mind of being exiled to the South of France like Mrs Simpson or to have to eke out the remainder of my days flogging Weight Watchers to America like Fergie *horrors*

'Please don't take away my HRH' I wailed, 'Life wouldn't be worth living!'

I could hear Mummy's pained screams of anguish as she saw all her hard work go down the drain, her daughter, once darling of the Establishment, now just a penniless ex-Duchess.

Through the maniacal tears, I managed to dig out my Smythson notepad and monogrammed Mont Blanc rollerball and began a frantic missive back to Her Majesty, begging for her mercy and throwing myself in front of her as her undying, lifelong slave servant.

Only then did I glance up to find Big Willy *rolling on the floor laughing* or ROFL as those on the 'street' say and in that very instant I knew, in the words of Noel Edmond's House Party, I had been 'Gotcha'd!'

Such cruel, cruel jokes. As if my life as a new Duchess isn't hard enough, I have to now keep one kohl-rimmed eye out for practical japes. It's like being back at Downe House *misery*

Friday, 8th July 2011 PM

Number of outfits worn: Five (including stetsons)

Number of Bucking Broncos ridden: Seven

Number of hours spent smiling: 21.2 (down from normal levels due to sad encounter, see below)

Risk level of lockjaw setting in: Severe - *Red Alert*

Heavens to crimbers, what a day! Firstly, I met with the brave little cancer suffered Diamond Marshall, aged six. If I wasn't such a dependable trooper, she would have nary reduced me to a puddle of tears; such bravery and spirit. 

Look, no tears. I'm such a trooper!

The occasion was totes ruined by a belligerent Easterly breeze though which left me doing a 'Lindsay Lohan' to the soldiers on more than one occasion in my primrose yellow, silk Jenny Packham summer dress *blushes*. It's a tremendously good job I have the legs of a racehorse or else I would be quite hysterical with shame. 

These tragic and sad occasions I witnessed this morningtide are part and parcel of life as a Duchess and I suppose my delicate heart will harden to such suffering over time. If only we had been pre-warned of the changeable weather, I would have worn my starchy linen dress instead and kept my Royal modesty in tact - *botheration*. Note to self: request daily weather/wardrobe pow-wow from hereon in

Good job I decided on underwear today.

Mummy always tells me to wear a slip. Mummy's always right, such a rock, not only to myself, Pipsy, Daddy and Jimbers, but to millions of other in Buckers and beyond. *Legend*

Earlier this evening, Big Willy said we were going to take a tour of Compton whilst in Los Angeles. I said I thought this sounded jolly nice, and asked if it was much like Old Compton St in London. He said no, it was the 'hood. Becoming increasingly perplexed by BW's new found lingo, I asked what the 'hood meant. Short for neighbourhood dear, he said, and the hood is always a bit 'rough'.

Oh dear, doesn't sound too much of a smashing time actually; the only neighbourhood I've been through is inner-city Reading and that was from the confines of Mummy's Audi A4 estate with the doors locked but I am a gung-ho girl, nothing fazes me, so I will do my duty and follow the lead. 

BW also told me not to wear any blue or red whilst we are cruising through said "'hood". I said this was a darn shame as I had just packed my scarlet satin and wool Catherine Walker coat! *what a to do*