I've been wondering what Kate calls Prince Charles...Dad? Your Royal Highness? Charlie?
To have to stand grinning like a loon, while clutching a baby only a few hours after giving birth...waving like a proper eejit at people with no sense...no thanks.
I suppose she can't whinge and say her tummy hurts and her breasts are hard as rocks and if anyone hugs her close she's going to squeal...or leak gallons of milk all down her front. Wonder if someone at the Palace has thought to buy her a rubber ring to sit on for a few days and several packs of extra large and very thick sanitary towels...
A midwife might visit perhaps...all brisk and efficient...'Now, how's Mother today? And baby? Let's see you feeding her then I'll take a quick look below your waist...make sure everything is as it should be...'
Oh, the pure horrors of your personal bits not being your own...expected to drop your knickers for all and sundry when you thought exposing your nether regions while giving birth was quite horrendous enough...
And you know...it must be pretty awful to have a troop of highly qualified Nannies on hand...can you imagine not holding baby Charlotte 'properly'...forgetting her head will wobble about and having some person in a starched uniform snatch her away and glower at you...'I'll take baby now Madam' when all you really wanted to do was look at her and play with her fingers...
And can you imagine the visitors...The Old befuddled Duke who probably breathes Whiskey breath in the child's face and can't remember who you are, never mind why he's there in the first place...air-kissing Queenie and wondering what's in the carefully wrapped package she hands you...you have to open it of course and pray you'll respond with glee at the sight of yet another weird gift your mother-in-law was originally given by the Head of State of some obscure African country she visited twenty years ago...Gosh...that's beautiful Queenie...isn't it William' He'll look slightly vacant and agree with you...
A dainty tea will be brought in, when what you'd really rather do is go and have a hot bath and slop about in your dressing gown...
Woe betide you if you still have a baby belly when you open a new council building in a month's time...never mind that your bra is stuffed with extra absorbent nursing pads and you still haven't discarded the big comfy knickers in favour of a barely there thong...
And imagine the horrendous embarrassment when the six week check comes around...not a friendly family GP telling you it's fine to have sex again while you make horrible faces and say it's the last thing on your mind actually...Kate will have a couple of blokes with hundreds of letters after their names who are dressed in frightfully expensive Saville Row suits and latex gloves...they'll probably tell Queenie before they tell you, that sex is back on the menu...
I'd love to know what she calls Prince Charles though...