That Time We Stalked Prince Andrew

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If you’re trying to find me and I’m not at work, chances are I’ll be at the mall. It’s my happy place.

I was there the other day, sniffing things at a natural soap shop, a very small natural soap shop. I was the only one in there besides the two staff members.

One of them commented on the all the “Celtic-type people” wandering around the mall. Even in a multicultural country like Canada, Brits tend to blend in, but I knew just what he meant. I’d noticed groups of people in kilts.

“They’re probably here for the Highland Games,” said his co-worker.

Of course–the Highland Games! I’d forgotten all about them.

“Are you going?” asked the first shop clerk, after offering to give me a salt scrub.

“No, but I went last year.”

“Really? What events did you see?”

Umm–I didn’t actually watch any events.

D and I went to the opening ceremony because Prince Andrew was the Master of Ceremonies that year. (Yes–that Prince Andrew all the way from London!)

Want to hear something even more embarrassing? We had our hair done on the way to the Games just in case Prince Andrew noticed us in the crowd of camera-wielding spectators.

After his (really good) speech, he wandered though the grounds, greeting athletes and the people running booths.

We lurked after him, getting close enough on a few occasions to warrant a stern look from one of his protection officers. Getting close enough that we’re both in the background of the photo used on the front page of that day’s edition of the Times Colonist.

“I didn’t actually watch any events. I, uh, just went to soak up the culture.”

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4 thoughts on “That Time We Stalked Prince Andrew

  1. LOL – well at least you didn’t end up replacing Fergie! My sisters used to have me on about doing my hair (when I was 13) before I went to milk the cows in the late afternoon. But then, the girl from the farm next door used to come over and help!

    • Who knows? If not for those overprotective protection officers I might be posting from Buck House today! 🙂

      That’s too cute that you used to spruce yourself up for the farmer’s daughter next door. I’m sure there’s a great story (or three!) there.

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