I remember, walking across my Nan’s lawn, aged six and a half, to greet my great-grandmother who was perched on one of those funny garden deck chair things, (the ones that folded out, all poky metal and blue stripey plasticy material seat) eating a cress sandwich.
As I walked into her line of vision, she exclaimed, so it tringed across the garden,
‘Doesn’t she look like Princess Anne?’
I was six. I was wearing flowery culottes (summer 1992) I had a scrunchie in my hair.
How the fuck did I look like Princess Anne?!!
I would continue, in her eyes, to look like Princess Anne for the next 22 years. Even when shown a picture of me in my graduation gown she (90 at the time) grasped my hand, milky-eyed, and whispered ‘oh you could be Princess Anne!’
After she died I sort of missed her saying it so I looked up photos of a young Princess Anne.
I don’t and have never looked remotely like Princess Anne.