THE Duchess of Cambridge has confessed she is exhausted by parenting under lockdown. Here is her average day:
Kids wake me up as usual – their rooms are 80ft away but sound carries dreadfully in these Georgian country houses. Pull the gold rope next to the bed for their nanny to get them breakfast. Why is everything my responsibility?
Wake William up, reminding him that he’s got to Zoom his brother and it’s past midnight in LA so he’ll probably be pissed. Tell him to ask Meghan about my Chanel coat that ‘went missing’.
Begin homeschooling the kids. It’s not easy because it’s a mixed-age group and frankly mixed-ability. Poor Louis. Takes after great-uncle Andrew in the smarts department. Today’s lesson is smiling and waving, but at the same time.
Finish screaming at the kids for f**king up their waving. “What the f**k was that?” I bellow at Charlotte. “You’re greeting your subjects, not trying to draw attention after suffering a stroke!” Kick them out into the grounds while I have a swift sharpener from the cognac decanter.
Completely forgot to do a Tesco click-and-collect so it’s swan for lunch again. The kids start snivelling the minute they see it, and even William rolls his eyes. “If you want something different, tell the bloody cook yourself!” I say, storming out for a fag on the upstairs balcony.
Wake up – I must have fallen asleep after my lunchtime cognacs – and go down to find William’s buggered off in his helicopter and there’s blood everywhere. The kids have been left unsupervised and they’ve killed a stag again. Pop them in the bath and have the corpse burned.
Finally the kids are in bed and I’m free to do what I want. Finish the cognac, light another gasper and put Bridgerton on.
Blind drunk, William lands the helicopter far too close to the house and wakes the kids up. “You can bloody deal with them after buggering off half the day,” I tell him, furious. With a long-suffering, ‘why always me?’ expression on his face, he pulls the gold rope.