The Prince

I have met Prince Charles twice. I have slapped Prince Charles once.  It is one of my greatest claims to fame. Well, that and I danced on an Atomic Kitten promotional video. But it has been a royal-themed sort of day; we visited a 1000 year old castle (The Tower of London) today, so I will tell you the Prince Charles story. The story is true but the names have been changed to protect the innocent.

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Once upon a time, fifteen years ago, in a land not far from here, there lived a young-ish Head Teacher running his very first school. One day the school received a phone call. The Prince was going to visit the village and he would like to meet children from the local school.

Because the Prince was so important, The Queen sent special instructions to the Head Teacher and the school. The list had few rules but one was that no one should touch the Prince unless he first offered his hand in greeting. The Head Teacher read the list to the children and all agreed they would follow The Queen’s wishes.

But a wicked fairy was watching. She hated school. Let’s face it: writing stories about What I Did at Half Term Holiday was useless when you have a magic wand. She was sure she could summon a magic spell to ruin the day.  She checked her Big Book of Fairy Spells and cloaked in invisibility, waved her wand around the Head Teacher’s tongue:

Abra-cadabra, abra-cabor

Whatever his first thought, he can think no more!

The day of the visit arrived and the children excitedly lined up, each with an individual flag to wave in order to welcome The Prince to the village.

The Prince’s special soldiers arrived first. It was their job to protect him. They wore sunglasses and talked to their cuff links.

Finally The Prince arrived. The Head Teacher thought to himself ‘Isn’t The Prince immaculately dressed?’ The Prince smelled good too. The Head Teacher wondered what strange royal cologne he might be wearing. It smelled nothing like his own Head Teacher cologne.

The Prince asked the Head Teacher a few questions about the school. He asked about the children and the wide backgrounds of Faith represented in the group. But the fairy’s spell had taken hold. The Head couldn’t answer because he was thinking about The Prince’s unusual cologne. He wondered where he could purchase such a heavenly elixir.

The Head realised that The Prince was waiting for an answer to his questions. The Head shut his eyes to concentrate but the smell of the regal perfume filled his nose, his ears: it coated his very tongue. The Head answered with jumbled, nervous words which made no sense.

The Prince laughed. He might have thought it charming that The Head was nervous to meet him. Perhaps he was familiar with the evil doings of invisible fairies and knew she had been about her work.

The Prince made a joke about the situation. Suddenly the spell was broken and the Head felt as if he had been aroused from a deep, deep sleep. The Head laughed at the joke. He laughed hard, jaw frozen open, eyes tightly shut.

The Head reached out and slapped The Prince on the back in an inappropriately, over-familiar manner, complimenting his royal personage on a great gag. It was the way one might slap an old friend on the back. Opening his eyes, The Head suddenly remembered The Queen’s simple list of rules that must be obeyed. In his mind, he heard The Queen reading the rule aloud in her own distinctive voice, ‘no one should touch the Prince unless he first offers his hand in greeting.’

Out of the corner of his eye, The Head could see the Prince’s special soldiers move a few steps toward him. They peered emotionless through their dark sunglasses. The Head meant The Prince no harm and wished to communicate such.  He held up his hands and backed away from the scene, nearly tripping over a small child with a flag in hand.

A few years passed and the Head was at another school in another village. The phone rang one day like it had before in the other village. The Prince was asking the children to come and sing at his castle. The Prince and his new wife were hosting a party and wanted to entertain their guests.

This time The Head wanted to make no mistake. He decided when in the castle, he would keep his hands clasped firmly behind his back. He wondered if The Prince remembered their strange encounter, years earlier.

The day arrived and the children rode to the castle. There was vast excitement in the village. Parents took photos, so proud that their child would sing for the future King.

Once at the castle, the children and The Head were taken to a small room and told to wait for The Prince and his new wife. They royal couple arrived and The Head thought to himself, ‘Blimey, hasn’t The Prince aged from the last time I met him?!’ The Prince chatted with The Head but if the royal memory did recall the slap on the back, if the special soldiers had a file on the incident somewhere, he didn't let on.

No one knows why the evil little fairy didn’t cast a spell that second time. Maybe she took pity on the Head. Maybe she took pity on The Prince and didn’t want him knocked off his feet with the over-zealous swipe of The Head’s bear-like hand. No one knows. It is a mystery. Even the name of The Prince’s cologne can’t be found on Google.

But one thing is certain: they all lived happily ever after (so far).

THE END

Keep the Faith,

The Head