My Royal Conspiracy

Kensington Palace finally revealed last week that the mysterious VVIP guest who’s attending the grand opening of the “new” Centre for Blast Injury Studies is none other than my favourite eligible bachelor, Prince Harry. As part of the opening, they’re holding a Network Event, a day full of talks from scientists and soldiers alike. And the best part is, anyone can go. Anyone that is, except for me.

I spent six months this year (ab)using the CBIS equipment, and as a favour to one of the postdocs fielding our red headed royal’s visit, I spent the first few days of my PhD avoiding any relevant work, and making a poster of my old project, to be handily displayed in the lab throughout the visit. I even resisted the urge to put my phone number on it (just in case, you know, he has any questions). Hours of my time in the lab were disrupted by hordes of people in suits coming and going, being briefed on the itinerary, and scribbling in their notebooks, without so much as an apologetic glance in my direction. Certainly an inconvenience, but anything for Harry!

Despite my begging, I’d been told firmly that I wouldn’t be able to cadge a spot in the lab during the demonstrations, but I was very much looking forward to finding any and every excuse to walk the halls of RSM and Bessemer while he just so happened to be around. I’ve always had this firmly held belief that if we were to ever meet, he would fall immediately in love with me, and that would be that: my happy ever after. I know that I’m in South Ken. every day, and I could just frequent Boujis if I really wanted to meet him, but as far as I was concerned, this was it. I was finally (and literally) going to meet my prince. This Cressida wouldn’t be a problem. After all, who’s he going to prefer: a socialite, or a scientist? And her last boyfriend was also called Harry - who does that?

But then I got an email. Suddenly I had to attend an all day meeting on the 17th! And as if they knew that I would try to sneak out, just for a little bit, I was scheduled to present at exactly the same time as my beloved HRH’s address. Despite all my efforts, it became completely impossible for me to be on campus at all during the delightful Captain Wales’s visit. A bit too convenient, I think.

And this is why I think it’s a conspiracy. See, I might have mentioned my plan to someone who might have been a little bit in charge, and I may have inadvertently come across as a bit “fanatic” or “obsessive”. That seems like a subjective observation to me, and I certainly wasn’t “sinister”, but there we have it. Out of the blue, my plans were scuppered, and I lost out on the chance to brush shoulders with His Highness.

Doesn’t that seem like a bit of a coincidence to you?