Thursday, December 31, 2015

Six Word Year

I hate six word stories. The whole concept annoys me, because stories that only have six words are usually not very good stories. They only exist for the benefit of those people who are too lazy to read a short story in its entirety, and, to be honest, these people don't really want to read stories at all. This year, for some reason, I stumbled across six word stories more often than I'd have liked, and so, despite the fact that I don't like them, it seems fitting that they are a part of a blog post that is representative of the year gone by.

If I had to write something about my 2015 in six words, it would be this: Princess Charlotte, Downton Abbey, Joe Jonas. 

The first one is pretty self-explanatory. Princess Charlotte Elizabeth Diana of Cambridge, the happiest baby in the whole world and my favourite little girl, was born this May. I remember the day that Charlotte was born - I had a holiday, so unlike when George was born, I was able to spend the whole day glued to my computer, refreshing Twitter for updates. Mercifully, the announcement of her birth came pretty much right away, so I didn't have to stay awake until 3am like I did for George. I live-blogged the whole thing.

I didn't like Charlotte so much in the beginning. She was the second child, and rather boring compared to George, who was perpetually making grumpy faces and being upset about things. But I grew to love her just as much as I love George, and now I wish her nothing but happiness for the rest of her life. It's going to be hard for her when she grows up - everyone's always going to want to see what she's wearing, and where she's going, and who she's dating, and she's never going to be able to put a foot wrong without attracting all sorts of criticisms.

She's got a few good years ahead of her, though, in which she can just be a baby and not worry about anything. I hope that 2016 is a really good year for Charlotte, and for George.

Isn't she the sweetest little thing?
The second one, Downton Abbey, has sort of been my companion for these past twelve months. I started watching the first season of Downton in January, and carried on with the show for the rest of the year, until Christmas, when I had to cry my way through the series finale. I had planned to write a review about the final season, and voice my opinions about Mary's new husband, and Edith's new husband, neither of whom I particularly liked when they were first introduced (I've come around on them both). But once I saw the finale, I was just so overcome with emotion and feelings of goodwill towards every single character that I couldn't write a bad word about any of them. So I scrapped the review, because I was worried that it would only be me gushing.

Actually, I might write it sometime next year, when I'm a little less sentimental. Maybe so that it coincides with the show's American airing.

I loved Downton Abbey. It was a brilliant, brilliant show, and I'm very sorry that it ended. The story lines were great, the historical accuracy was amazing, and the actors were magnificent. But the thing that struck me the most right at the very end was how much the characters had changed over the course of six seasons. And no one more so then Mary. Because I had watched six years worth of episodes in a little over six months, I remembered very clearly what Mary was like when she found out that Patrick was dead and that Matthew was the new heir. And when I saw her in the Christmas Special, she was a completely different Mary to the one from 1912.

And I loved it. There she was, married to a second hand car salesman with no money, and no prospects, attending the wedding of her younger sister to the Marquess of Hexham. She didn't care about titles, and advantageous relationships, or anything of that sort. And she was happy. Which is the most important thing of all.

The third one is perhaps the hardest to explain, and I wonder whether I should even be talking about it on my blog. But I don't care, and it's not like anyone reads my blog, so it doesn't really matter.

When I started college this June, I was not in the best place, mentally. I was unhappy, for a lot of reasons, and even though I wasn't actually suffering from depression, I couldn't have gone on like that forever. The only thing that made me happy at that point was the Royal Family, but they were too far away, and whatever pictures and postcards and thank you letters came from them were few and far in between. I loved them, yes, but I only saw them maybe once in six weeks, which was frustrating.

Which is where Joe Jonas came in. Obviously, I'm not talking about the real Joe Jonas here - the person in question is a someone of my age who I go to college with, whose name I cannot reveal for obvious reasons, and who I will continue to call Joe Jonas until he latches on to the fact that that is my name for him. When college started, I would occasionally see Joe, in class or in the canteen, and, for some strange, inexplicable reason, it made me happy.

I don't understand it. I've tried and failed, on numerous occasions, to explain to a friend (or a friend acting as a therapist, as my friends often are) the reason why I get so excited when I see Joe. There's nothing remarkable about him. He's quite ordinary - boring, even. And I don't love him. I've never even spoken to him - he means nothing to me, But when I see him, I feel happy. It makes me happy to just know that he's going on with his uneventful life as normal, and it also confuses the life out of me, but that's how it is. That's why this paragraph is so rambling. I don't understand it, but I'm trying my best to explain it anyway, and I'm botching it up because I'm a rubbish writer.

Right now, I'm happy. And, among other things, I have Joe Jonas to thank for that. By doing nothing, by simply existing, he managed to make me happy every day, and I am eternally grateful to him.

So, that was my year. Much like Lady Mary, I'm nowhere near what I thought I'd be like at this point in my life, but I'm happier than I've ever been, so it doesn't really matter. Admittedly, I've been rather under productive this year, as you can make out from the fact that I wrote all of one blog post in November, a month in which I'd planned to write loads, but I plan to roll up my sleeves and really get cracking from tomorrow. I've just discovered Bullet Journaling, which I intend to diligently keep up for at least a month and a half, so that should increase my productivity a little bit.

I was recently appointed Desk Editor for Royal Central, so that is another thing that I need to focus on in 2016. Also, I will try and be a bit more regular on this blog. I'll still write about nonsense, though - that can't be helped.

I'm excited for the new year. William and Kate are going on tour again, and, as if that wasn't good enough news in itself, they're coming to my country, which means that I might finally be able to fulfill my lifelong (well, since 2011, anyway) dream of meeting the Duchess of Cambridge. Of course, many things could happen between now and the time that they actually come here - they could decide not to visit my city; they could decide not to undertake any public engagements; they could just call off the visit altogether - so I don't really want to get my hopes up. I'll write more about that once the Palace releases the official schedule, but I'm cautiously optimistic.

It's going to be a good year. I think. I hope.

We'll find out soon enough.

Have a lovely new year.

N

Monday, November 2, 2015

Happy Six Months!

I don't mean to jinx it, but so far so good.

Of course, I had to write today, because is a rather special day. Today, the most darling little girl on the whole planet, and my second favourite baby (sorry, but when she starts making faces like this, I'll reconsider) Princess Charlotte turns six months old!


I've grown quite fond of Charlotte in the six months that she's been around. I still don't love her as much as I love George, that's true, but in fairness, she hasn't been on a tour of another country yet, which means she hasn't quite had the chance to be photographed looking grumpy that George has.

Unfortunately, owing to my badly timed blog hiatus, I missed covering a few important moments in Charlotte's first six months, so I'm going to quickly go through them to bring you up to speed about the life of the first Princess born so high up in the line of succession to the British throne since Princess Anne.

Here Charlotte having her first official picture taken. She looks a bit confused, but also quite pleased with herself.



Here she is at her christening, crying in her mother's arms and waving her fat fists around. She's excused because she's a baby, and also adorable.


And here is George, wondering what would happen if he released the latch and sent his sister's pram rolling down the drive.


And here he is again, telling the Queen about his diabolical plan, because if anyone can understand how frustrating it is to have the your sister steal all the attention, it's Princess Margaret's older sister.

And here is Charlotte again, with her whole family after the christening. The women's dresses are very pretty, Prince Philip looks incredible for someone his age, and Prince Harry is noticeably absent, but the real star of the day is the baby (no, not you George)...


...who probably fell asleep as soon as the whole thing was over, and didn't remember any of it the next day.

Happy half-birthday, Charlotte. I'll always love you

N

Word Count for November (including yesterday's post): 873

Sunday, November 1, 2015

Follow Me, Please

I know that I've been gone for an abysmally long time, but in my defence, I've been very busy (read not busy at all) doing important things (read watching the newest season of Downton Abbey, which, by the way, is absolutely brilliant. Frankly, the show hasn't been this good since Matthew was alive, and I'm going to be quite sad when it's over).

In the six months that I was gone, a lot of things happened to me: I started college to study Economics and English Literature, I took part in a few extra-curricular activities, I gained a reputation as a stalker, I came up with some pretty excellent Tudor analogies, Princess Charlotte grew up a whole lot, and I gave a bunch of exams which I have probably failed, I don't know. And, which is what I really wanted to write about today, I made an Instagram account.

Now, the immediate reason I joined Instagram was so that I could follow Michelle Dockery, who is not on Twitter or any form of social media, other than Instagram, for some reason. It was worth creating a whole new social profile just to follow one popular actress, though, because a few days after I joined, she posted this:

A photo posted by Michelle Dockery (@theladydockers) on
Which just made me so deliriously happy, because I've missed that face too.

Along the way, I started using Instagram less to see what the cast of Downton Abbey was up to, and more to see what people who I knew were up to. Well, 'knew' is perhaps a bit of an overstatement - these were people that I went to college with, but never had the courage to speak to. Most of them used Facebook sparingly, and weren't even on Twitter, so Instagram was the only way I could really follow them online.

I never posted anything. For the longest time, my profile revealed absolutely nothing about myself, because I was afraid of accidentally double-tapping something as I scrolled through someone's pictures from 2013. But when one of my friends pointed out that I wasn't in a position to berate stalkers because I had an Instagram account solely for stalking, I figured it was time to start posting pictures.

And so I do. Occasionally. You can follow me @hrh_nikita for pictures of the letters and postcards that Kensington Palace so kindly sends me every time I write for someone's birthday or Christmas. Also, next year (2016, that is) I am going to attempt the Hundred Book Challenge once again, except this time, I'll be posting pictures of the books that I read on Instagram, which allows me longer descriptions than Twitter.

Also, if you are on Instagram, and I know your name but don't follow you - please don't make your account private. I rely on public accounts for information, and it would break my heart if I couldn't see pictures of where you went for dinner last night,

Posts on my blog have been few and far in between this year, so I'll try and see if I can fill it up a bit this month. I'll definitely write tomorrow, which is a rather special day, and I might write a few more times while I'm on holiday, so come back for that. And please be kind. I haven't written in absolutely ages, and I've completely forgotten how.

Here's a picture of the Cambridge family to tide you over until the next post.


Adorable. Just the best.

Saturday, June 6, 2015

My 10 Favourite Swedish Tiaras

- Ipshita Rhea Peters


It’s not easy writing a blog post when the only instructions given are, and I quote: "Write anything you please. Just mention the royals somewhere."

As it turns out, I will be writing about the royals. Specifically, the Swedish royal family. My knowledge on this subject isn't nearly as vast as Nikita’s, but my love for all things Swedish and sparkly does leave me with enough data to compile a list of my 10 favourite Swedish tiaras.

So. Without further ado.

10. Swedish Diamond Bandeau Tiara


A Bandeau, but definition, is a narrow band worn on the head to hold the hair in place, which makes it more of a fancy headband than a tiara. Whichever the case, it is undeniably pleasing to look at.

Important Appearance : 2008 Nobel Prize Gala Dinner. Worn by Crown Princess Victoria. 

9. King Edward VII Ruby Tiara 



This tiara was a gift from King Edward VII and Queen Alexandra to Princess Margaret of Connaught, on her wedding to Prince Gustaf Adolf of Sweden. After her death, it was inherited by her son Prince Sigvard, who later sold it to king Gustaf VI Adolf. Since then, Queen Silvia has worn it on multiple occasions.

Important Appearance : The wedding of Prince Joachim of Denmark and Alexandra Manley, 1995. Worn by Queen Silva. 

8. Baden Fringe Tiara 


Popularly dubbed as the Crown Princess’ signature tiara, the Baden Fringe is yet another wedding gift. Given to Queen Victoria of Sweden by her parents (Grand Dude and Duchess of Baden) for her wedding to Crown Prince Gustaf of Sweden in 1881, the tiara was left to a family foundation, and has since been worn by many members of the family. Recently, it has been primarily used by the Crown Princess.

Important Appearance : Nobel Prize Banquet 2014. Worn by Crown Princess Victoria 

7. Six Button Tiara


This particular tiara is of immense historical importance to the royal family. The buttons on the tiara were part of the crown of King Carl XIV Johan, used for his coronation in 1818. These 10 buttons were later removed an used to create two separate tiaras: the Six Button Tiara and the Four Button Tiara. The Six Button was allegedly intended for Princess Lilian, wife of Prince Bertil, but has been used by many royal ladies over the years.

Important Appearance : 2011 Nobel Prize Awards. Worn by Crown Princess Victoria. 

6. Braganza Tiara 


[As worn by Queen Silvia, left]
This French tiara belonged to Amélie of Brazil, wife of the Duke of Braganza. After her death in 1873, it was inherited by her sister, Queen Josephine of Sweden, and has remained in the family ever since. The Braganza has traditionally been worn by Queens, except once in 1937 by Crown Princess Louise. Recently, Queen Silvia has been using it exclusively for state visits and official portraits. 

Important Appearance : Queen Elizabeth II’s state visit to Sweden. Worn by Queen Silvia. 

5. Swedish Laurel Wreath Tiara 


Made in Boucheron, the Laurel Wreath is popularly remembered as one of Princess Lilian’s signature pieces. Another wedding gift, it was given to Princess Margaret of Connaught by her grandmother-in-law, Queen Sophia of Sweden, and was later passed on to Prince Bertil. It was frequently used by Princess Lilian.

Important Appearance : King Gustaf VI Adolf’s birthday, 1962. Worn by Princess Lilian. 

4. Modern Fringe Tiara 


One of the more recent additions to the family’s jewels, the Modern Fringe can be worn as either a tiara or a necklace. Although the personal property of Queen Silvia, it was allegedly a 10th anniversary gift from King Carl Gustaf. It has since been one of Princess Madeline’s favourite tiaras. 

Important Appearance : Princess Madeline’s Wedding, 2013. Worn by the bride. 

3. Leuchtenberg Tiara 


A wedding girt from Napoléon to Princess Augusta of Bavaria, Duchess of Leuchtenberg, on her marriage to Eugène de Beauharnais, this tiara has been a regular guest at Nobel Prize ceremonies. It was inherited by Josephine’s daughter Augusta, the Queen Consort of Oscar I of Sweden, as has been frequently used by Queen Silvia. Currently , it is part of a parure of jewellery, including earrings, a brooch, a necklace, and two hairpins.

Important Appearance : 2011 Nobel Prize Banquet. Worn by Queen Silvia. 

2. Connaught Tiara


Known as Princess Sibylla’s Tiara, this tiara is yet another wedding gift for Princess Margret by her parents, the Duke and Duchess of Connaught. It was inherited by her son Gustaf Adolf, who later gave it to his wife, Princess Sibylla, as a wedding present. The Connaught Tiara was later worn by many royals, including Queen Silvia on her first public appearance.

Important Appearance : Crown Princess’s Victoria’s Wedding, 2010. Worn by Princess Madeline. 

1. Cameo Tiara 


The Cameo tiara is not at the top of this list because of fine looks or craftsmanship (although it certainly lacks in neither of the two), but due to its significance in the family’s history.

One of the oldest jewels in the family, the Cameo Tiara was a gift to Empress Joséphine by her husband, Napoleon, in the early 1800s, back when such tiaras were more popular. It was inherited by her granddaughter, Josephine of Leuchtenberg, who brought it to Sweden through her marriage to King Oscar I of Sweden and Norway. The tiara was then passed through many royals- Princess Eugénie, Princess Margaret, Princess Sibylla, Queen Ingrid of Denmark- until it finally came to rest with the current King of Sweden.

Traditionally, the tiara has been used as a wedding crown. It was worn by Princess Brigitta and Princess Désirée on their wedding days, in 1961 and 1964 respectively. Later, the current Queen wore it for her marriage to King Carl Gustaf in 1976. To further the tradition, Crown Princess Victoria wore it for her wedding to Daniel Westling.

Seen on the head of any Swedish royal, this tiara can cause any fan (myself included) to break down into tears. A symbol of power and heritage, the Cameo certainly fits the wedding tradition of wearing "something borrowed."

Important Appearance : Crown Princess Victoria’s Wedding, 2010. Worn by the bride.


~

Contrary to what Ipshita thinks, she actually knows a lot more about Sweden's Royal Family and their tiaras than I do, but who am I to tell her that she's wrong.

This is truly the pièce de résistance of all the guest posts on my blog. Not only is it so obviously about royalty that you couldn't possibly think otherwise, but TIARAS!

The Swedish Royal Family is so appropriate for a tiara post, because their collection of tiaras is not only gorgeous, but also vast, which means that there's a tiara in there for everyone. And the best part is that this post comes a week before Prince Carl Gustaf's wedding to Sofia Hellqvist - a perfect occasion for the ladies of the family to bring out their tiaras in all their splendour.

Ipshita has her own blog, Euphoniour, on which she writes poems and posts about music and her dog (You can read that by clicking HERE). Apart from the Swedish Royal Family, she loves Gerard Way, and Maggie Stiefvater, so if you have that in common with her, you can follow Ipshita on Twitter or on Pinterest.

She also has the most adorable pet squirrel.

N

Tuesday, June 2, 2015

Blog Award?

I'm back!

And I'm interrupting this series of guest posts (which, hopefully, you've been enjoying, or at least reading) because I have been nominated for a blog award.

Weird as it sounds, it's true. My friend Ipshita nominated me for the Liebster Award. You can read more about the Award and its rules on her blog, Euphoniour, but basically what I have to do is answer 11 questions which she set for me, and then nominated some more people to answer some more questions. I don't understand how you actually win this award, but I like Ipshita's questions, and I want to answer them, so here goes.



1. If you could bring anyone back from the dead, who would it be, and why?

Probably King Richard III. I love him, and I feel bad that he had his head smashed in when he was only 32, but that's not the only reason. I'd really like to know what happened to the Princes in the Tower - it's one of the greatest mysteries of all time, and one of my personal favourites - and if anyone knows, it's Richard.

In fictional characters, Dobby. Definitely Dobby.

2. What era would you like to live in, and why?

The early 20th century. For many reasons. It's far enough in history that not many people living remember it, and yet close enough to the present era that modern inventions were starting to appear and people weren't dying of the plague (Other things, certainly, but not the plague). People lived like they do on Downton Abbey, the plane was invented, it was a great time for women's rights, Russia still had an Imperial Family, and most importantly, two World Wars happened.

Strange as it may seem, wars are actually my favourite part of history. Though it is a horrible, terrible thing, war always seems to bring out the best in people. And there is nothing better than a well-told wartime story. 

3. Which character from a book or TV series would you date?

This is such a hard question. Perhaps the most difficult question I've ever had to answer (Apart from 'Who's your favourite royal couple?'). Because every single time I read a book or watch a TV show, I fall in love with one of the characters. It doesn't take much - one cleverly placed quip or a handsome face, and I'm smitten. As a result, the answer to this particular question changes every month or so. 

At present, I'd have to say, from a book, Thomas of Hookton from The Grail Quest, and from a TV series, Matthew Crawley from Downton Abbey

4. Why did you start this blog?

Because my previous one was rubbish, and I was thoroughly ashamed that I could have ever been that stupid. 

5. Describe your blog in six words.

On my passport, it says Poppy. 

[This has nothing to do with my blog whatsoever, but at the moment, I am absolutely obsessed with Almost Royal

For context, because I'm sure that most of you haven't got a clue what I'm talking about, watch this video from about the 4 minute mark. In fact, if you have the time to spare, watch the whole thing because it is absolutely brilliant. Poppy Carlton is my hero.]

6. If you could say something to your younger self, what would it be?

Do a better job of brushing your teeth, because somehow you end up with a lot of cavities and your dentist hates you. Also, no matter what you think, you don't get any less awkward as you grow older. Even as an adult, there are 14 year-olds with more poise and confidence than you.

7. What motivates you?

Deadlines. And the desire to be better than other people, but mostly deadlines.

8. What is the best movie you have ever seen, and why?

The Lion King, without a trace of doubt. It is the best movie that Disney has made, and literally everything about it is flawless. It has a fabulous troupe of people doing the voices, great, great soundtrack, Shakespearean influences, an amazing love story, a powerful, positive message, and the best animated lions that I have seen in my life.

9. What is the first thing you notice about people?

Their accent. Or, if I'm in their house, what the hand soap in their bathroom smells like. 

10. What are the three features you admire most in people?

Intelligence, kindness, and individuality. 

11. If you could have lunch with any person in history, who would it be, and what would you talk about?

Definitely, one hundred percent, the Duchess of Cambridge. I'd touch her hair and tell her how awesome she is, and then we'd talk about George and Charlotte. Well, she'd talk - I'd just stare at her, dumbstruck.

Or, if the Duchess of Cambridge doesn't technically qualify as a 'person in history' because she's from right now, I'd have lunch with Elizabeth Woodville. And then put poison in her soup, because I'm evil that way.

~

Thanks to Ipshita, for giving me this set of questions and something to do with my time. Her guest post from my blog (I won't tell you what it's about, because spoilers, but I think you'll love it) is coming out this Saturday, so do read that.

I have very few friends to begin with, and even fewer friends with a blog, and because Ipshita nominated practically all of them in her post, I don't have anyone left to nominate. So, I won't. I will end this branch of the challenge here, just like Edward, Earl of Warwick ended the Plantagenet dynasty in the male line by... well, dying. 

I'll leave you with that cheerful thought.

N

Saturday, May 30, 2015

Louis the Pious

- Upamanyu Acharya

Three years of fleeting, inescapable darkness,
Eclipses of sun and  moon;
Espied orange, velvet flames – burning 500 feet long,
The bridge that stood strong, in their memories atleast.
Up in the sky, a streak of red, enveloped in Various shades
of white and blue and orange. A comet, a sign –
The falling of a star that burned forever;
Charlemagne, King of the Franks and the Lombards,
Emperor and Augustus
of the Holy Roman Empire.


Feeble and fragile, he leaned on his heir
The red haired, broad shouldered heir.
Slivers of sunlight smoldered
Through stained-glass windows
Where the oaths and vows were imposed
“To guide the churches of God, and
To defend them against wicked men.
To show unstinting compassion to his sisters
and His younger brothers,
His nephews and all of his kin.”
He kissed the ground, that heir, praying
And the holy men relaying
Vivat imperator Ludovicus


When Louis the Pious arrived in Aix-la-Chapelle
he took care to resolve Charlemagne's will,
He called the clergy and the holy men
Set to promulgate God’s decree on the Carolings.
He drove his sisters, the large mob that they were,
Out to nunneries and estates granted by father.
Uncle Adalhard, Noirmoutiers and Wala to Corbie,
Bernhard to Lerins, and Gundrada to Poitiers.
He sent them all away.
Sons, daughters, siblings and trees.


He began that moral search, with paper in heart
Investigating words and words within words
Seeking the deeper meaning in morals of Aix-la-Chapelle
With hunts for prostitutes and strangers at court
And within brick walls of nobles, and the Jews;
the constantly clinking merchants, and the cacophonic clergy.
The sins in the eyes of God, overseen, omniscient,
Were to be watched by beggars and children
As they were whipped out
One by one,
With lashes in the marketplace.
Vivat imperator Ludovicus


~

This poem is taunting me. Taunting me because I know so little about the French, or the Holy Roman Empire, or really anything that happened before 1066.

If you want, you can read more about Louis, King of Aquitaine (that fairly large duchy in France of which Eleanor of Aquitaine was once Duchess) here, or here, or on Wikipedia, or by emailing Upamanyu and asking him about it. He may never reply, but it's worth a shot.

Upamanyu also has his own blog, on which he writes things that go completely over my head, but seem to be brilliant. You can read it by clicking HERE, (I've written a couple of posts or him too, so see if you can find those) and if you're viewing the desktop version, there are a bunch of icons on the top right that link to his Twitter and various other social media profiles, so follow him on whichever of those you want.

N

Saturday, May 23, 2015

Star Ahoy!

- Neha Makhija


Empty, empty, empty. There was absolutely nothing in sight. The nothingness was uncomfortable, unnatural, uncanny. Frantically, she looked everywhere at once. Her hands and head worked in tandem, hysterically going through every cupboard and cabinet, investigating every shelf and drawer, rummaging through all sorts of containers and jars. Nothing.

Even the cheese slices in the fridge were over. Yes, there were some apples around, a papaya too, unflavoured biscuits and those distinctly funny tasting chips. But she wasn't going to eat that. It wasn't like she was famished. Actually, she wasn't even remotely hungry. She sat down on the floor rather despondently, giving up on her snack search. She was just bored.

But the universe is so awesome. It is literally awe-inspiring in the truest sense, unlike the undeserving mundane that we overuse the word awesome on. The smallest mysteries of the universe are inexplicable to the greatest minds that have ever lived. There are more things to think and do than the number of seconds you've lived. Or ever will live.

That was all excessively wonderful, yes. But what was she supposed to do about this? She was still bored.

Her eyes were supposed to be resting. No internet, no books, no television. Only natural stresses to your eyes. Have adequate light around you. Make sure it isn't harsh, industrial light. Have like a soft, fluffy sort of light. A light light. Blink naturally. It’s good for you. Fine. She swore she would be completely natural. For the next fifteen minutes. Thirty seconds down.

“This is useless”, she declared to the headlights of a car that were blinking furiously from across the road. They blinked back in agreement. The billboard flickered in approval. A red signal flashed its assent from a distance. An aeroplane went by, twinkling in concurrence. A lone star sparkled its endorsement from heavens above. She blinked. That star was weird.

She wasn't quite sure; she had no firsthand experience with stars. But there was something striking about this star. It was big and bright and twinkled as merry as jack in the box, a far cry from the usual variety. The usual variety of stars, she reflected sadly, were mere dots, visible only by gawking at every part of the sky until your eyes popped out. Maybe this was the North Star, the beacon of explorers through the ages...except it wasn't in the north. It could be Sirius, the Dog Star; she knew that it held the distinction of brightest star in the sky. She opened the constellation app on her phone, pointing it starwards like a sceptre. The map on screen swung into motion, and arrived at a fragment of the sky containing obscure, seemingly minor stars she had never heard of. There were the planets Venus and Mars in the mix too. Could this ‘star’ be Venus? It was called the evening star after all.
But it twinkled. Planets don’t twinkle, right?

She stared at with focused ferocity, trying to gorge out its mysteries by ogling. Giving up on that, she keyed in “Do planets twinkle??” on her phone. (Yes, her eyes were supposed to be relaxing, but she was sure staring your eyes out didn't count as repose either.) Deftly and experiencedly, she judged all the results. No, no, not really, sorta, not as much as stars, yes, no. Hank Green suggested, rather cryptically, that planets don’t scintillate- at least not as much. Maybe this was Venus; that would explain its larger size. Or maybe it was ongoing battle between the Black Eyes and the Whirlpoolians, and the Whirlpoolians had just dropped their first quasar bomb (just=24 million years ago).

She treasured mysteries, and was happy that she was always going to have stuff she didn't know, but the fact that this star/not-star would set pretty soon and she would never know what it was, saddened her. It would be so different, if she could see the thousands of stars hidden behind the city lights every day. She would be able to, painstakingly, chart out all the dots and their movements. She would be able to see the stuff of NASA pictures, seafarer fables, big-budget Hollywood movies, Van Gogh and of explorers’ tales.

Technology was a boon, she had decided on that early on. And stars were clearly visible in the fourteenth and fifteenth century, but the Hundred Years’ War still took place. It is not like the presence of twinkling specks brought complete wisdom and inner peace to everyone underneath them. But she still yearned for the stars. Why, why couldn't they have both technology and stars? She didn’t want firecrackers. Firecrackers tried too hard, trying to pack in loud colours and vivid noises where a simple twinkle would suffice. And no matter how advanced the firecracker is, you can always spot the smoke it leaves as it huffs and puffs into non-existence. It was a pitiable substitute.

She wanted stars.

Would she really give up streetlights, house lights, nightlife, headlights, the entire night transportation system to look at dots which were available to her in glorious HD right on her fingers? “YES”, her heart whispered fiercely. But she wasn't so sure.

~

In case you're having trouble finding it in all that science, the reference to the Royal Family here is the Hundred Years War, which was fought between the Kings of England and France in the Middle Age, so technically, it's alright. Apart from that, it's about stars. 

I've known Neha for a few years now, and the most fascinating thing about her is that everything fascinates her. Literally, everything. I've seen her write odes to popcorn, because that's just who she is. 

Neha also has her own blog, Colossal Curiosity (HERE), on which she writes about things like Solar Impulse, the slowest plane in the world. Don't miss it if you like slow planes or popcorn (or science, or Neha). She also just joined Twitter a few months ago, and last week was her birthday! So go and say 'Hi'. And happy birthday.

N

Saturday, May 16, 2015

My Unhealthy Obsession

- Vaishali Ramesh


The month of my long-awaited and dreaded finals, I spent all my free time watching Downton Abbey. The show, for those of you don't watch it, follows the lives of a wealthy family who live in a typical Georgian Country house, and let me tell the house was huge. The show is all about the Crawley's three daughters and their not so perfect lives.

At first glance, this show seems atypical to the Victorian Era, ball dances and butlers. But it's not just that, its much more. I can't pin point a specific thing I liked about it, was it the arrogant Mary, or the patriarch Lord Grantham? It was neither, it was Maggie Smith's sass.

Maggie Smith whom I like to fondly call Professor McGonagall, is the head of the whole family. She quietly blends into the background when necessary but also puts people in their places at the right time. She has this insane ability for mocking people in the subtlest way possible and also being able to smooth it over, with the same amount of ease.

For a devout fan, I skipped a few episodes in between owing to the fact that my head hit the pillows promptly at ten every night, the exact time when the show was aired on the idiot box. To make up for this loss, my friend used to catch me up before every exam. Soon unable to stand the slow pace, she went ahead and saw the whole season. Now catching me up became redundant. I so obviously would not be able to contribute helpful comments to her narration. I was hence left in a loop, do I waste precious sleep hours watching the show or do I stay up like an owl? Sleep won.

Soon after finals ended, I sat down for three days straight and watched the whole show till the very end of the current season, deciding to watch it on television thereafter. Curiosity sated, I moved on to more important things. Three weeks later, too busy to do anything other than sleep or work, I discovered that the show had moved ahead on TV. They were well into the next season. Floundering for time to catch up, I struggled to get back on track with the show. After multiple episodes and still not reaching the mark, I gave up.

In some ways, my obsession with the show is a bit like Nikita's. We both were obsessed with something British and captivating. Although hers started way before mine and has lasted longer than mine, it was an obsession all the less. Be it Prince George or Lord Grantham, cuteness was abundant.

So what I am trying to say here is this, some obsession are like mine. Short lived and it completely draws you in. While others are like Nikita's. Long lasting and it makes you so stalkerish that you are ready to forgo sleep and watch the Royal Family at five in the morning. What so ever it may be, don't fret when the obsession wears off for you will find a new and more entrancing one, like I found Chris Evans.

                                                                             ~

I should point out that I'm not a stalker, and that I don't watch the Royal Family at five in the morning (except for that one occasion when the Cambridges were in Australia, and I just had to see George get off the plane).

Anyway, that was Vaishali's post about her 'unhealthy obsession' with Downton Abbey. As you might remember, I absolutely adore Downton Abbey - I watched it non-stop during my exams, and Matthew's face was pretty much the only thing that kept me sane for those three weeks - so I get where she's coming from.

Vaishali also has her own blog called Prolix, which she runs with her friend (and for which I once wrote a guest post that was not about the Royal Family, and yet entirely about the Royal Family because that's the kind of person that I am) so go and check that out HERE. It's a fun read.

N

Saturday, May 9, 2015

Charlotte, Charlotte, Charlotte

They named their daughter Charlotte Elizabeth Diana.

The name, of course, is a tribute to her paternal grandparents Prince Charles and the late Princess of Wales, and her great-grandmother, Queen Elizabeth. Which is all very well when you belong to a regular family, but coming from William and Kate, I'm a little disappointed. The Royal Family thrives because of its thousand year history, and in that time there have been countless strong women who have ruled and fought battles and generally been awesome - Charlotte could have been named for any of them. Instead, she was named for members of her immediate family. Two of whom are still alive.

Also, George and Charlotte (as in 'The Duke and Duchess of Cambridge and their children George and Charlotte') just reminds me of King George III and his wife, Queen Charlotte.

Nevertheless, Charlotte is the name that they have chosen to give her, and so Charlotte is the name that I must accept and grow to love. Charlotte. Charlotte, Charlotte, Charlotte.

Anyway, Charlotte and her family are in Norfolk, where they will be staying at Anmer Hall and out of the public eye for the rest of the summer. Apparently, the Cambridges are enjoying "nice private family time". Private though it may be, I doubt that life with an infant and a toddler like Prince George is very "nice" - William and Kate probably haven't slept in days,

I've already written them a letter with congratulations and best wishes, and now I have nothing to do until the release of Charlotte's first official picture, which is when I'll change the desktop background on all my devices to include her.

It's not weird. It's not weird at all.

~

I'm going on vacation next week, so a few good friends of mine have agreed to guest blog for me. Their posts are about the things that they like to write about - I only asked that they mention some thing, some where that is in some way related to royalty. Any kind of royalty. Their posts will be up every Saturday, so keep coming back for that.

Charlotte, Charlotte, Charlotte.

N

Saturday, May 2, 2015

May 2, 2015

He hasn't even been born yet, and I already hate the new Royal Baby.

For one, he (or she, but for convenience and to back my own bet that the baby will be a little Prince, I'm going to keep saying 'he') is so late, that not only do I not share a birthday with the Royal Baby, I don't even share a birth month with him anymore.

I've complained about this many times before. In fact, just this morning, I started to write a blog post about how late the Royal Baby was and how it's inconveniencing everyone. It was set to be posted today.

And then, like the entitled little brother of the future King that he is, the Royal Baby chose to be born today. 

But Kate is in the hospital, and if all goes well, Royal Baby #2 will be born today, and no matter how many sleepless nights he caused me, I am so excited. 

I'll keep you updated.

Update: Just to clarify, I don't actually hate the Royal Baby. I could never hate anyone who could potentially look as cute as George looks right now. 

Update: The fastest news source is obviously Twitter. There are a score of reporters and photographers who are actually outside Lindo Wing, and even more Royal watchers, who, although they are sitting at home, are filled with delightful facts about past Royal births and possible baby names.

Of course, if you are even remotely interested in the Royal Baby, you absolutely must follow Kensington Palace on Twitter. They were the first to tweet when George was born, and also when he was named George, so you can be sure that they'll do it this time around too.

Update: In the last two hours, there have been twenty-five thousand tweets about #RoyalBaby. Five of them were from me.

Update: I was wrong. It's a girl.

IT'S A GIRL!!

I'm so exhausted that I can't even be sufficiently excited about this.

Congratulations to William and Kate and George.
Update: The baby was born at 8:24 am, and weighs 8 pounds and 3 ounces. She is fourth in line to the throne, after her grandfather, her father, and big brother George.

And she already has a Wikipedia page, bless her. She's not even half an hour old.

Update: 


(I've been wanting to use this Harry Potter reference from the minute I found out that Kate was in labour, but it all happened so quickly that I didn't get a chance.)

Update: Oh. William's leaving.

At least, I think he is. To get George.

Update: He is.

We've been told he's gone to get George, but that he also might not get him if he's not at his best for the media.

Update: IT'S GEORGE!

HE'S HERE!


AND HE'S WAVING!
HIS HAIR IS SO CUTE.

WILLIAM JUST GAVE HIM A KISS, WHAT A GOOD BOY GEORGE IS.

SO WELL BEHAVED.

WE ALL LOVE GEORGE.

Well, I do, anyway. No matter how many younger sisters he has.

Update: George has gone home, apparently. It's a wonder no one saw him leave (or did he use a back entrance?)

Either way, there is talk that William and Kate and Baby Cambridge will be leaving the hospital today, but closer to 7 pm. Sky News seems to be an excellence source for videos, so if my live stream fails again, like it does every time some thing important is happening with the Cambridges, I'll have to rely on that.

Update: Excellent news. The Cambridges minus George are going to be leaving the hospital even earlier than predicted (in around ten minutes from now) and I've managed to get a live stream going! So far it's just those Lindo Wing doors that I once loved but have now grown to hate, but I can see people moving around inside.

Update: Someone just came out! It's not them - some sort of aide. This suspense is killing me.

Update: My hands are shaking. I've refreshed my Twitter feed nearly fifty times in the last minute. Come on!

Update: She's here! It's the new Princess!

And she is the most precious little thing. 
Update: They went back in, and then came back out and now they've all gone home.

And I'm exhausted. It's been a long twelve hours.

Now to sleep. And when I wake up tomorrow, William and Kate will probably announce their daughter's name, and then I can write them a letter saying congratulations and then they'll retire to their Palace and this will all finally be over.

Happy Birthday, Princess of Cambridge. I'll see you at your Christening.

N


Note: This is breaking news, so to speak, so obviously I do not have all the information at once. This post will be updated as and when I learn something new.

Sunday, April 19, 2015

Hurry Up, Royal Baby!

My birthday was this week and the Royal Baby hasn't been born yet, and now I'm vexed.

Wednesday, March 25, 2015

Random Reflections About A Reburial

My exams are over, and I'm back in front of my computer - just in time for a very special reinterment!



I started watching Emma Approved sometime during my exams, and I have been obsessed with it ever since. I'll write about it later, but now is not the time to talk about an excellent web series. Today is all about, and only about, a certain King Richard.

For those of you who have been living under a rock, or just too busy watching the cricket World Cup to notice anything that doesn't have to do with bats and balls, King Richard III was reburied today. Or will be, anyway. At the time that I'm writing this, it's still very early in the morning, which means that it must be slightly after midnight in Leicester. But I will keep this window open all day, and whenever I have a thought that is related to the reburial, I will write it down. And then I'll post it. This is what I do for fun.

~

To quickly summarise: King Richard III was the youngest son of Richard Plantagenet, Duke of York, and the younger brother of the Yorkist King Edward IV. Edward seized the throne from Henry VI during the Wars of the Roses, and ruled for over 20 years, albeit with some hiccups along the way. When Edward died, his son, Prince Edward, was only 12 years old and became the new King. But Richard wasn't having any of that. He booted the young King Edward off the throne by claiming that his father's marriage to Elizabeth Woodville was a sham (and therefore Edward and all his siblings were illegitimate), and locked the boy in the Tower of London with his younger brother, Richard, Duke of York. Then the older Richard had himself crowned King.

But the people weren't happy that Richard wasn't following the order of succession (apart from the two boys, he had also bypassed Edward, Earl of Warwick, the son of his older brother George), and the situation got worse when the two Princes in Tower suddenly disappeared. No one knows what happened to them - maybe Richard killed them; maybe Henry VII killed them when he came to the throne; maybe they just caught some common disease and died; maybe they escaped and fled to France - but they were missing and it was all Richard's fault.

In 1485, Henry Tudor, a direct descendant of King Edward III and a Lancastrian heir to the throne, returned to England after years of exile in Brittany and claimed the throne for himself. He challenged Richard to battle, they fought at Bosworth, Richard was thrown off his horse and bludgeoned to death, Henry Tudor won and he was King. Richard was buried in a priory which was destroyed under the rule of Henry VIII, but then his body was discovered under a car park in Leicester three years ago. The rest is history (Well, all of this is history, but the rest is recent enough history that you should have read about it in the papers).

Richard III was a good King. He was a good military commander, he made fair laws, his economic policies were quite good, and, mostly importantly, he was not a twelve year-old mama's boy. He had real world experience, and had lived through most of the Wars, and made a much better ruler than Edward ever would have. It's a pity he had to have his head bashed on the battlefield.

~

Note: I follow Indian Standard Time, which is UTC+5:30, or five and a half hours ahead of GMT.

10:30: My father pointed out a column about the 'Car Park King'. I read it, and then I read it again, this time with a pen, which I used to circle all the factual errors. There are lots. I understand that British history may not be the columnist's strength, and I forgive her for that, but is it really acceptable to be making such basic, factual errors when it is SO easy to just Google things like dates and titles.

You can read the column here, and if you can identify all the errors, you win. There's no prize - you just have the satisfaction of winning.

11:30: I have mixed feelings about Benedict Cumberbatch giving a reading at Richard's reburial. On one hand, I'm glad that they've got a prominent actor who understands the gravitas of the situation (Cumberbatch will be playing Richard III in the upcoming series of the BBC's The Hollow Crown, and is also distantly related to the King... what!?) and not just some random person, but on the other hand, does Benedict Cumberbatch really know Richard or does he just know him as Shakespeare's hunchbacked, villainous, nephew-murderer? I can't be sure.

11:45: I have to write a piece for Royal Central about the descendants of the Battle of Bosworth meeting at Leicester for the first time since their ancestors met there 530 years ago. I don't feel like writing it though. I'm getting very jittery about this whole reburial thing.

12:45: Done. Here.

14:00: I've been texting my mother fun facts about Richard III all morning. I don't think she's reading them, but that hasn't stopped me in the past.

15:30: I've decided to take up another article about King Richard. I don't have anything to do until the service starts, and I'm determined not to write about anyone other than Richard because, like I said before, today is his day.

17:00: Finished. Here.

17:30: I spent the last half an hour thinking about whether Richard would have ever, in his life, imagined that this would be his future - a miserable defeat and burial, and then such a splendid ceremony 500 years later. The answer is 'Of course not. Why would he possibly think that?'

On a side note, I have no idea what time this service is supposed to start at.

17:45: It's already started. It's almost over, too. The Countess of Wessex is here, along with The Duke and Duchess of Gloucester. There are two 'Richard, Duke of Gloucester's in this Cathedral - one sitting on the side as a guest of honour, and one in a hole in the ground.

18:00: Benedict Cumberbatch is looking very dapper. The white rose pin in his lapel is actually for sale online, and if I find the link you can go to it by clicking on this sentence. I actually wanted to buy it, but it was too expensive after shipping, and I would never have had an occasion to wear it anyway.

This is so great. I wish they would dig up a few more Monarchs and rebury them, just so that we can have ceremonies.

18:15: If they reburied Henry V, would they call Tom Hiddleston to give a reading? I wonder.

I do wish they had invited Aneurin Barnard to this. He's Welsh, so he's probably descended from one Tudor or another, and he's played Richard III on television. A more accurate depiction of Richard, not Shakespeare's evil version.

18:30: Fun fact - The Archbishop of Canterbury sprinkled the coffin with soils from Fotheringhay, Middleham, and Bosworth. Richard was born in Fotheringhay Castle in 1452, Middleham Castle (a possession of the Earl of Warwick before his death) is where is lived after her married Anne Neville, and where his son Edward was born, and Bosworth, of course, is where he died. So soils from every phase of his life.

19:00: I've finished looking at all the pictures, and reading all the tweets, and watching all the guests leave. I guess this is it, then. He's finally buried.

Rest In Peace, Richard.

You'll always be my favourite Plantagenet King.

19:45: Another one! "A search for bones of Henry I is planned in Reading"

Oh, this is going to be fun.

N