Beyond Knickers and Squidgy : Underneath the royal trappings, there’s a cautionary tale in the un-merry husbands and wives of Windsor.
Last Thursday marked the 12th anniversary of the marriage of the Prince of Wales and Lady Diana Spencer. I admit I was one of those warmed by their romance and entranced by their engagement. And, yes, I crawled out of bed at 2 a.m. to watch the royal wedding on television.
Now that the marriage is shattered, it’s hard to know what to feel. I recently spent several weeks in London, and at every newsstand I saw cheery postcards of the prince and princess posing affectionately with their sons. But in bookstore windows were titles like “Diana vs. Charles: Royal Blood Feud,” “Behind Palace Doors” and “The Tarnished Crown.” I haven’t read any of this recent spate of tittle-tattle books. One would have to be as rich as the queen to afford them all. I could buy just one or two--but which (if any) can be believed? Each promises truths never before revealed to the public.
I’m not sure I want to know more “explosive details” about the royal couple. I’m a little weary of what Tennyson called “that fierce light which beats upon a throne.” And I certainly won’t spend many nights tossing and turning if I don’t find
out about those “missing minutes” from Diana’s “Squidgy” conversation. Still,
like most people, I’m fascinated by the messy lives of those who appear to have it all.
At first I felt sorry for the seemingly wronged Diana. Lately, I’ve come to think of her as the Princess of Wails, and my sympathy goes to Charles. Diana was the luckiest young woman in the world, and she blew it. She had the chance at powers, pleasures and privileges beyond the wildest dreams of all but a few. I don’t want to hear about how rigid and regimented life is for members of the royal family. Everyone knows it goes with the position and is the price one pays for its benefits--little luxuries like fame, fortune, free health care, Buckingham Palace. And is it really so hard to sit through a few boring teas compared to what other jobs (miner, bus driver, nurse) require?
Charles chose badly. The future king should not have picked as his consort a high school dropout with no skills and no appreciation of royal traditions. It was hardly a secret that Diana’s passions were sweets, cosmetics, slushy romance novels and TV soap operas. Her idea of a fun evening with her friends was to look through the telephone directory for people with (what she considered) silly names and call them up. How did Charles think such a girl could become a princess and eventually queen? The answer may be all too obvious. She was distractingly pretty, blushed easily, looked up at him from under long dark lashes, and he, like many another man, mistook silence for shyness rather than for lack of anything worth saying.
Diana accepted his offer. Yet allegedly she was miserable during the engagement, claiming she felt like a lamb led to slaughter. Even those books that support the princess (such as Andrew Morton’s “Diana: Her True Story”) portray her spending much of her marriage whining, sobbing, arguing violently with her husband, consulting astrologers, feeling excessively sorry for herself, listening to loud pop music and being sick.
After a while, one begins to understand Charles’ friendship with Camilla Parker-Bowles, a woman he has known for years who shares his absorption in hunting, architecture and watercolors. Almost everyone has read excerpts from the tape of the chat between the prince and his longtime love. But many people have overlooked the key passage. It’s not the notorious “knickers” exchange. Nor is it when he says, “The trouble is I need you several times a week,” and she replies, “Mmm. So do I. I need you all the time.” It’s that quieter moment when Charles tells her he’s working on a speech about rebuilding communities. And she asks, “Can I have a copy?” Camilla is a smart woman. Her talk is full of laughter and good humor, and she wants to read everything Charles writes. That last desire may be the most important.
The latest issue of Glamour magazine has a photo of her royal highness in a red two-piece swimsuit. The caption reads: “Eat your heart out, Chuck. Does Camilla look as good as Di in a bikini?” Well, no, she probably doesn’t. And maybe “Chuck” doesn’t care. Because just maybe he’s tired of a beautiful but boring cover girl whose main talent is unhappiness.
Let this anniversary be a lesson to us all. Men, if you decide to marry, find a woman whose wit, zest, interests and thirst for knowledge equal your own. Women, if you are despondent and have doubts about the bridegroom, call off the wedding--even if your face is already on every tea towel in Great Britain.