Oh my days, I made the HUGE mistake today of telling my mother about HRH Prince Charles visiting Mayflower School. I have never seen her so happy EVER. Honestly, never ever. Not even when I told her how Maria Draper had one of them colonic irrigations and it went a bit wrong after she went through to the supermarket wearing cream trousers. Not even as happy as then.
I always forget how much my mother loves royalty. She once made me and Cava-Sue stand for four and a half hours outside Poundland in Ilford Mall just to push daffodils in Princess Anne’s face. Mum loves Prince Charles even more.
“Ooh Crivens!” she was saying, “Is Charlie coming! I love Charlie! And is he bringing Camilla too? And will you get to speak to him? And what will you say!? Will it be in the newspapers! Will you get a photograph of you and Charlie standing together for the wall, Shiraz? Oh my God, I can’t believe this. I’ve gotta call your Aunty Glo and tell her. She will die!”
Mum then got on the phone with Glo and by the time she’d talked the whole thing up it sounded like Charles was coming just to see ME in particular as he was bringing the Queen’s special sword and I was in line for some type of knighthood. Mum also agreed with Glo that they’d take the day off work and come down and wave Union Jacks. Oh. My. Days.
You’d think that a bunch of folks with funny teeth and flappy ears who don’t work for a living and are always getting drunk would get on Mum’s nerves. When it was the Brunton-Fletchers doing it she kept a log-book of complaints and tried to get them moved to Hastings on an ASBO. But with the Royal Family it’s different.