Betty with Her Royal Highness, the Duchess of Cornwall, and screenwriter Michael Crompton, 3.3.11

“Your Royal Highness, how do you do?”

That was me, practicing in my hotel room over and over, because saying “Your Royal Highness” doesn’t come easily to a midwestern, all-American girl like me. But I was to be formally introduced to Her Royal Highness, the Duchess of Cornwall the next day. And I was going to introduce her reading. By the way, if you saw The King’s Speech – and if you didn’t, you should – the primer on royal protocol that was sent to me said exactly what was said in the movie: “Call her Your Royal Highness the first time. Afterward, ma’am that rhymes with ham.” (The reason for the latter is to make sure you don’t say “mum.”) I was told that a curtsy bob was optional. Good, since I don’t have a lot of experience with a curtsy bob, though if I were in a receiving line with the Queen, I would curtsy. Or at least curtsy bob. I’m not sure my bad knees would cooperate with a full curtsy, but I practiced them as a girl. However, ths time I didn’t curtsy.

So who is this Duchess of Cornwall? In common parlance, she’s Camilla. Camilla Parker-Bowles nee Shand. Wife of Prince Charles. Stepmother of Prince William and quite soon, stepmother-in-law of Kate. And very likely to be the future Queen of England. And why was this all happening to me? It was all because of Humphrey the hamster and his World Book Day book, My Treasure Hunt Trouble, launching the new Humphrey’s Tiny Tales series.

Thursday morning, Laura and I took a hired car to Wimbledon Chase Primary School in Wimbledon – a rather harrowing ride in which I taught the driver a phrase he wasn’t familiar with: “Whaddya want … a written invitation?” when the car ahead of us egregiously missed an open opportunity to turn into traffic. He seemed to like the phrase and will no doubt be using it again. (By the way, since I spent much of the week in cars in horrific traffic, I noted how rarely drivers there lay on the horn.)  My contribution to British culture.

Wimbledon Chase is a huge, rambling old Victorian school and students were being bussed in from other schools as well. It was the official World Book Day, so many were in costumes. Lots of Alices, Robin Hoods, Dorothys and costumes you wouldn’t see in the U.S., such as Wombles and tin soldiers. We were warmly greeted when we arrived but it was clear that this was a special and very formal day. I really appreciated the fact that everyone was happy to go over with me – repeatedly – what the sequence of events would be. I would give my presentation as usual. The Duchess and entourage would enter and we would be formally introduced. (“Your Royal Highness ….). Then I would kick off the story writing competition for children and introduce the Duchess, who would do a reading from Winnie the Pooh (my life is flashing before me, since I wrote 90 episodes of Winnie the Pooh TV shows and three series of Pooh books).  Two students who won the competition from last year would read their stories. The Duchess would be presented with a signed set of Humphrey books and flowers. Okay … got it.

I kept my eye on the clock as I did my presentation. (Word ahead of time: wear what you would usually wear when speaking to students). The Duchess would be dropping by my presentation. Got it

I was intent on finishing before she arrived. Until … nearing what I thought was the end of the  Q & A portion of my presentation – someone sidled up to me and announced that the Duchess was running 15 minutes late – could I keep going? I did … for 20 minutes. I thank the children in the audience for coming up with more and more questions but I think we were all getting a little weary when someone announced that the Duchess had arrived and would be coming in shortly. The Q & A ended.  Dignitaries came in … including people with large gold medallions around their necks. I believe they were The Mayor of Merton, the Mayor’s Consort (don’t ask), and school officials. Also people involved with the Wimbledon Bookfest Young Writers’ Competition, including an actor I love, Timothy West (I really wanted to meet him), author Sophie Kinsella whom many in America would know, and Michael Crompton, chair, a TV writer whose work it turns out I admire greatly. And whose children, he told me, have a hamster named Humphrey.

They were seated. And we waited and waited in silence where you truly could hear a pin drop. A total hush. I’m not sure Americans are capable of such a hush … especially the 400 children in the room! The Duchess came in, beautifully dressed in a fuchsia suit, and was introduced to me (with only 400 people watching.) I said, “Your Royal Highness, how do you do?” And she said something so nice, thanking me for giving up my time for such a wonderful cause and saying, “You write the books about the adventurous little hamster, don’t you?” I have NO idea what I said. I hope it was coherent. Then I was introduced,  and I introduced her and took my seat. She read from Winnie the Pooh, the children read their UNBELIEVABLY WONDERFUL STORIES, and I was completely besotted with the little boy in his English schoolboy uniform who had short pants with one sock up and one sock down. Her Royal Highness was presented with the books and flowers and was asked for a few remarks. She said some lovely things about her love of reading as a child and her father reading to her as a girl. Then she was whisked off, but to my surprise, she stopped to shake my hand and chat on her way out. That wasn’t in the plan, which made it all the more charming.

 Some colorful characters at Wimbledon Chase Primary School

Then we were in lockdown for awhile because no one could leave the room until her car had left. And it was over.  I’d met a Royal. It’s nice for the memoir.

I sometimes wonder how I get myself into these situations that are so incredibly stressful. I could happily be at home in my office.  Then I remember: it’s all because of Humphrey.

My best advice came from a chatty cabbie the night before. He was asking a lot of questions so I told him I was to meet Camilla the next day and that it was unusual and nerve-wracking for an American. He said, “Don’t worry, luv. She’s just like the rest of us and very down-to-earth. You just be yourself, luv, and you’ll be fine.”

Better advice I’ve ever had, luv.

After the event, we rushed off to Waterstone’s Piccadilly, the hugest bookstore I’ve ever seen, for an intimate event with a small group of students, teachers and moms which was a wonderful capper to the day. Then off to my publishers’ board room at Faber & Faber for a champagne toast and a chance to chat with Managing Director Stephen Page and the wonderful Faber team. With lots of good sales news about the latest UK releases.

Later, back in my room at the Hotel Montague on the Gardens (half a block from Faber in Bloomsbury, across the street from the British Museum), eating a room service sandwich, I kept thinking of that line from the nursery rhyme:

Pussycat, pussycat, where have you been?”
“I’ve been up to London to visit the Queen.”
“Pussycat, pussycat, what did you dare?”
“I frightened a little mouse under her chair”
“MEOWW!”

So I thought: “Pussycat, pussycat, where have you been? I’ve been up to London to visit the Duchess.”  And to replace the mouse, I’d add a hamster, who didn’t frighten the Duchess at all.

By the way … I WILL arise early to see my new “friend” at the royal wedding. (Still waiting for the invitation.) And if I was thinking that all of this was a really big deal, I had my next-door neighbor, former New Zealand opera star Mary, to go to for advice: she had lunch with Queen Elizabeth and Prince Philip aboard the royal yacht many, many moons ago. Now that’s nerve-wracking!