Spotted in a shop window on Broad Street. My flatmate A.’s response: ‘They’re putting a lot of faith in the idea it’ll actually happen.’ This seems galling cynicism even from a Holby City viewer. J, who shares my complicated shame-guilt binge-purge relationship with our future royals and all gorging on their medias, pointed out that we should have bought the commemorative Woolworths tat put out several years ago. William with all his hair. Kate (sorry, Catherine) without the Kensington Palace anorexia-glint burning at the back of her eyes. I wouldn’t want to be Queen Catherine. Divorced, beheaded, and even the one who survived ended up dying in childbirth while her husband molested her stepdaughter (slight historical ellision there, but essentially true). All of which makes Holby City seem quite tame.
…well, if you didn’t know what to get me for Christmas before this post….