Even in fairy tales, being a princess looked like a high-risk occupation, constantly battling off evil stepmothers, scheming sorcerers and cackling witches, not to mention being locked up in towers, getting grief from dragons and becoming the enforced housekeeper for seven short messy little miners who presumably claimed they couldn’t do the dishes because they couldn’t reach the sink.
Even in real life, I’ll bet having a title isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. How do you buy things on Amazon? The drop down menu on the address page says Mr/Ms/Mrs/Dr but does it include Princess/Your Highness/Her Grace? Nope.
Imagine eagerly awaiting a nice new pair of fluffy slippers, only to find Hermes dumped your order somewhere in Buckingham because the driver is looking for someone called Grace Windsor.
The living accommodation wouldn’t rate well on Tripadvisor. I watched The Crown. Those chilly looking palaces look like seriously cold comfort in the heating department. There’s a reason why the Queen and her late mother were such fans of the twinset cardy combo. Who gets cosy when the nearest source of heat is far enough away to need satnav?
The service would be good, I suppose, although I’m not sure I’d like some nice lady appearing at my bedside with tea first thing in the morning to wake me up. For…
