| 2006 | |
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BERNARD GUSSET -
AFTERTHOUGHTS (Updated... now and then)
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| STOP PRESS : | |
| February 23rd 2006 | |
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SUCH IS THE END OF EMPIRE
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 "A toast to all you commoners... Up yours!" |
My Prviate thoughts, just for me... and a few of my "yes" people. Dear JournalTuesday (or thereabouts) : I rose early this matins, 10am at least. Well I needed an early start and for another thing the bloody butler tripped in the corridor and scattered my tea things for a yard or two. It seems it woke the whole of Clarence House, as many others were up then too, though god knows who they were. Gave the chap a round thrashing for five or ten minutes which got the old blood pumping. Popped over to Camilla's room to see if she was up for it. Old horse face was already about in her chambers and smoking one of those ghastly cigrette things. Still, we played hide the polo mallet for a while until breathless, we collapsed on the persian carpet. That'll need dry cleaning. Took a peek out of the window whilst shaving. Would you believe it, that bloody Nicholas Witchell was outside the gates doing a piece to camera. I hate him. He's so... ginger! That probably means one of two things. Either I've gaffed again or I've got to meet some thieveing brown faced dictator from Bogo Bogo land or one of the Commonwealth countries, which means I'll actually have to touch his hand. Ugh! It's bad enough with common people. |
| Just how will I get through the day. I often wish I'd not been born of royal blood. The burden is so heavy at times. I wonder just how mummy copes, though she manages to just switch it on and orf! It explains why daddy is such a bastard I suppose. It would be nice to be just an ordinary member of society. Mr No-One living in a small average estate with half this number of servants and just a few hundred acres. I wouldn't need much, just enough money to get by on. Enough to run the jet and half a dozen cars. Spend my winters quietly in Gstaad or St Moritz, my summers in a small 50 roomed Palazzo in Tuscany or on the French Riviera in some tiny little chateau just outside Grasse with just one or two Ferrari's. And a skelton staff of say ten. Slumming it maybe but peace of mind. Evenings spent quietly, driving myself to Monaco for some games of chance, Chemin de Fer in the Salon Privee at the Casino there and afterwards, a light supper of lobster and Cristal at the hotel De Paris.... peasant food. Aah but that is not to be. Just where is that fucking butler with my brekkers! If he takes any longer I'm going to Camillas rooms and he can bloody well work it out for himself... just before I fire the bastard! P.S. Remember to say good morning to the plants in the conservatory. The orchid was a bit grumpy when I forgot yesterday, bloody green leaved prima donna. | |
