Hello from Australia. It is a pleasure to be back. I won’t say it’s a “home away from home” as that is a terrible cliché and besides, it’s not true.
|Who is she? She follows me everywhere.|
But I do so enjoy coming here. Philip has, so far, not offended anybody. He did call it a “colony” but he was talking to a woman called Colleen who mistook it as a sign of affection.
The newspapers have certainly been buzzing with the news of our visit. They reported one outfit was “fuchsia.” How vulgar. To make matters worse, though, the Palace corrected them by saying it was “shocking pink!” I have told Tippy Winston-Wellington ad nauseam that my name is not to be anywhere near the word “shocking.” Perhaps I should do the Palace’s PR myself.
We are enjoying a tremendous deal of admiration from the Australian crowds. It’s fun imagining all the people with corgi faces – it’s the reason I’m smiling in all the photos. Apparently it only takes a pert bridesmaid’s bottom to restore respect for the monarchy. People are so fickle. But still, mustn’t grumble. These people have completely forgotten that their Head of State lives on the other side of the world. Hoorah!
I have received countless flowers from children. It’s frightful to think of the germs I would attract if not for my gloves. Children spend half their day ungainly exploring their noses. Edward’s nanny had a frightful time extricating his finger from his nose. Sophie tells me he isn’t much improved.
|Hee hee, corgis corgis!|
Although I do wish these middle-aged women would stop saying they gave me flowers as children. Air hair lair! Does anything make one feel older? I am more modern than people realise. I even own an electronic mobile telephonic device, it’s called a raspberry. Or is it a strawberry? I don’t suppose it matters. Anyway, Charles sent me a delightfully chatty message on it this morning. Oh, he is a rascal!
Text message from Charles: Hello Mummy. How is one?
One is unable to use those small and peculiar buttons while wearing gloves, so I asked my lady-in-waiting to help. Flossie St John Darling-Darling is so very helpful, I have never understood why more people don’t have one.
Text message to Charles, as dictated by one to Flossie St John Darling-Darling: One is well.
In normal circumstances, discretion is my metaphoric middle name. But in this instance I don’t mind telling you that Flossie’s real name is Jane Smith. She doesn’t know I know. How delicious! One day I am going to call her Jane just to see her reaction. Aren’t I terrible!
I’m off now to open a building. I just have to pull on a chord which opens a curtain, revealing a plaque. I keep asking if I can smash a champagne bottle on the front door instead. But no such luck.
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