So Kate is doing the Indian tour and what a lovely lot of outfits she’s chosen. Tasteful and appropriate, for the most part. Even the “common touch” cheap ones. I do the same thing… pop on something from George at Asda just so that everyone can see I’m, you know, one of them.
Then it was reported that she’d had a “Marilyn Monroe mishap”. What? That got me worried. Had she had a serious of ill-starred affairs and was sacked for being unreliable? No. She wore a dress on a breezy day.
Not so very different, then. It’s happened to the best of us. One minute you’re striding down the high street trying to decide whether or not you’ve done enough steps to justify a sneaky cheese twist and the next your skirt is billowing fetchingly round your well-toned thighs while the world’s press tries to get a shot of your pristine white pants… Kate, I feel your pain.
She’s just another working mum trying to make it through the day. Sure she’s zipping around by private jet and my transport is a malodorous Skoda, but still…
Luckily for the Duchess and I, it seems that every day is a good hair day. That’s because she’s always prepared – travelling everywhere with a personal hair dresser. I’m similar – you won’t find me without my personal, er, hair brush.
Then she explained her post-baby return to slimness, saying she simply “ran after the children”. It’s a method I’m trying too, but, thinking about it, I wonder if I have to get whoever’s got them strapped into the car to drive a little faster.
However, the clincher came the day that she took off her heels (nude patents, of course) and revealed that she’d “forgotten to have a pedicure”. Me too. Oh yes. Almost every day of the year, if you catch me barefoot you’ll discover exactly the same thing. You’d also see, like my regal soul sister, that I have deviant toes and baby corn, or something. Spooky, isn’t it?
The only real difference is that her husband is much balder than mine – just in case you’re ever wondering whether it’s her or me.