Once upon a time, this was going to be my forever home. Instead it had proved to be just another brief stop. You can't expect someone born into royalty to be anchored to reality, but this is a long monologue of his truth but an incomplete view and observations of the world. Everyone laughed. To beard or not to beard, that was the question, but leave it to Grandpa to demand more beard. Let grow the luxurious bristles of a bloody Viking! It was one of the most searing images of the twentieth century: two young boys, two princes, walking behind their mother's coffin as the world watched in sorrow-and horror. As Princess Diana was laid to rest, billions wondered what Prince William and Prince Harry must be thinking and feeling-and how their lives would play out from that point on. It was one of the most searing images of the twentieth century: two young boys, two princes, walking behind their mother’s coffin as the world watched in sorrow—and horror. As Princess Diana was laid to rest, billions wondered what Prince William and Prince Harry must be thinking and feeling—and how their lives would play out from that point on.

I'm telling all my friends and everyone I know, NOT to buy this book. The self-pitying boo hoo doesn't deserve a single cent from the public. It's hideous and many of his claims in the book have already been proven to be false.

verifyErrors }}{{ message }}{{ /verifyErrors }}{{ The memoir, published by an imprint of Penguin Random House, has been in the headlines for weeks, with some of the juiciest revelations being leaked ahead of the release, including details of how the Duke of Sussex lost his virginity in a field, suffered frostbite to his "todger" during a charity trek, and his use of cocaine and marijuana. The weather was quintessentially April. Not quite winter, not yet spring. The trees were bare, but the air was soft. The sky was gray, but the tulips were popping. The light was pale, but the indigo lake, threading through the gardens, glowed.

I recalled one recent chat, just me and Grandpa, not long after he’d turned ninety-seven. He was thinking about the end. He was no longer capable of pursuing his passions, he said. And yet the thing he missed most was work. Without work, he said, everything crumbles. He didn’t seem sad, just ready. You have to know when it’s time to go, Harry. Then he met Meghan. The world was swept away by the couple’s cinematic romance and rejoiced in theirfairy-tale wedding. But from the beginning, Harry and Meghan were preyed upon by the press, subjectedto waves of abuse, racism, and lies. Watching his wife suffer, their safety and mental health at risk, Harrysaw no other way to prevent the tragedy of history repeating itself but to flee his mother country. Over thecenturies, leaving the Royal Family was an act few had dared. The last to try, in fact, had been his mother.. . . If you want to listen to Spare– or any of the other titles available on Audible – but don't fancy another monthly subscription, don't worry. Another gust of wind. Funny, it reminded me of Grandpa. His wintry demeanor, maybe. Or his icy sense of humor. I recalled one particular shooting weekend years ago. A mate, just trying to make conversation, asked Grandpa what he thought of my new beard, which had been causing concern in the family and controversy in the press. Should the Queen Force Prince Harry to Shave? Grandpa looked at my mate, looked at my chin, broke into a devilish grin. THAT’S no beard!I glanced now into the distance, towards the mini skyline of crypts and monuments alongside Frogmore. The Royal Burial Ground. Final resting place for so many of us, including Queen Victoria. Also, the notorious Wallis Simpson. Also, her doubly notorious husband Edward, the former King and my great-great-uncle. After Edward gave up his throne for Wallis, after they fled Britain, both of them fretted about their ultimate return—both obsessed about being buried right here. The Queen, my grandmother, granted their plea. But she placed them at a distance from everyone else, beneath a stooped plane tree. One last finger wag, perhaps. One final exile, maybe. I wondered how Wallis and Edward felt now about all their fretting. Did any of it matter in the end? I wondered if they wondered at all. Were they floating in some airy realm, still mulling their choices, or were they Nowhere, thinking Nothing? Could there really be Nothing after this? Does consciousness, like time, have a stop? Or maybe, I thought, just maybe, they’re here right now, next to the fake Gothic ruin, or next to me, eavesdropping on my thoughts. And if so . . . maybe my mother is too?

That—and the fact that I was carrying her flag. I’d come to those gardens because I wanted peace. I wanted it more than anything. I wanted it for my family’s sake, and for my own—but also for hers.With King Charles III's Coronation fast approaching, the spotlight is on theRoyal family once again. Ahead of the ceremony (and Bank Holiday) if you want to read-up on everything that's been happening in the last few years, you can now dive into every sordid detail without paying! We agreed to meet a few hours after the funeral. In the Frogmore gardens, by the old Gothic ruin. I got there first. Spareis narrated by the author, Prince Harry, The Duke of Sussex. It takes around 15 hrs and 37 mins for him to read the entire, unabridged memoir and all of its revelations.