One of the things that defines those of us in the Secret Royal family is sometimes forgetting to care about things that are apparently very important. Like when you should be at the airport and the purpose of a boarding pass. I do care, I really do, or at least I will when I get a minute. I just have so many other things to care about first. I’m a very caring person you see – got a lot of love to give even in a single day.
So when the important man told us it was the last boarding call, I definitely cared about that. The boarding card said 2A so off we went looking for it. Stuart thought I was already holding the torch didn’t he, so he just followed me like a lamb. But all I was holding was a Prada clutch, a Karen Walker overnighter and a tube of Dior lip maximiser.
The kind lady wearing the unlikely turquoise (Airlines have been trying to get colour blocking to catch on for years) blinked at our boarding passes and back at our winning smiles. She badminton slapped one back across at us. I felt the cold wind as the invisible smile wizzed past my right shoulder. “That’s your seat number dear. There’s no such thing as gate 2a. Your gate number is 32. You might want to hurry”.
I should mention at this point that the other prerequisite of being secret royalty is the ability to laugh, particular at your own misfortunes. We have a personal rule – if it doesn’t kill you, it will make good material.
How we laughed.
Then how we ran.