We’d all worked hard on the show for months. Even S played an active role, kindly agreeing to deliver the opening address. I did wonder, however, if she now regretted this offer given the fuss that I was making over every single word of her speech.
What none of us knew was that Princess Anne would be in the audience. She turned up dressed in a long brown wool wrap skirt. On her feet she wore black cotton socks under brown all-terrain sandals. I’d never noticed before that her hair was red like mine.
In the interval one of the men in our party made a beeline for the royal guest. Pressing his body up against hers, he proposed a trip to visit some polar bears. I could tell that Princess Anne was not happy. I made my way over to extract her from the clutches of this posh prat.
Relieved to see me, Princess Anne turned away from the man and started a new conversation about perfume. We were both delighted to learn that we shared a love of Yves St Laurent’s Opium. (Apparently the Queen can’t stand the slightest whiff of it.)