With the Duke and Duchess’ five year wedding anniversary this Friday, and the Duchess of Cambridge regularly facing rather rotten criticism for her stiff public speaking, Right Royal Mother imagines what Will might have in store for Kate.
But just before that, a little MAD Blog Awards plea. I’m a finalist in the ‘Best New Blog category and if you’d like, you can vote for me here. You’ve got ’til 27 May (but why not do it now and then you won’t forget ..?)
Five years. Wood you believe it? And I know I’ve said this before, but THE FOLLOWING ACCOUNT IS FICTIONAL.
“I would work,” says Kate, sipping a Smirnoff and slimline tonic and browsing pictures of her father in law looking at buildings, “but it’s our five year anniversary on Friday and I think William’s got a treat in store.”
She is talking to her mother, who has doubts. “Darling, there haven’t been any unusual deliveries made. The Ocado van brought everything you had on the list. Even Lupo’s aubergine dip.”
Kate looks dreamy. “I thought we were going to Paris so I could be Audrey Hepburn and wear stripes in a place that is actually chic. But actually, I think it’s going to be LA,” she whispers.
“Why do you think that?”
“I heard Will on the phone last night. He said, “OK, then. Hollywood it is. It’s not perfect, but it’ll do.” She smiles at the thought and hugs her Breton-ed elbows. “It’s so like him to think of something small but meaningful. Five years is wood, you know? And last time we were in Hollywood was five years ago and I wore a stunning dress so I might have to go shopping. I wonder if Richard Branson will lend me his plane.”
Just then, Will walks in from having been outside, feeding the ducks with George. He looks worried.
“Poppet, you DO like golf, don’t you?”
Kate looks baffled. “Not really.”
“But you like Tiger Woods?”
“I thought you said you loved him. ‘He’s got a phenomenal tee'” were your exact words.
“I was talking about his top. I liked it.”
Will looks sheepish. “Ah. I see.”
Kate glances at her mother nervously. “Will? What is it?”
“Well, darling … you know you wanted to go away for our anniversary?”
“And how you were talking about all the criticism in the media about you being a bit wooden?”
“Well, I thought you could work on it.”
Carole looks at her daughter with barely disguised horror. The grandfather clock ticks.
Kate forces the imaginary Jenny Packham gowns back into her mind’s cupboard and shuts the door tightly. “No Hollywood, then?”
Will brightens. “Yes! They have got holly wood. I’m so glad you like it. I wasn’t sure you’d approve but I told them how much you were keen to work on your wood and …”
“Yes. I get it. OK,” Kate swallows bravely and holds up a hand. “I’ll do it. But are we at least going to have a nice meal?”
“Of course, darling,” Will takes his wife’s hand and leads her into the dining room. “I had Maria take the children up to bed early and look …” he passes Kate the course prospectus and smiles proudly at the table, bedecked with fine crockery given to them as a wedding present from the Queen. A steaming bowl of fowl lies proudly in the middle.
Kate glances down. “Woodwork Course – by Tiger Woods. And wood pigeon, with Gan-Gan’s Wedgewood. How lovely,” Kate says, and settles down to eat.