A few minutes behind schedule, the Duke and Duchess of Sussex arrived in a Range Rover at the first stop of their quasi-official Nottingham visit—a royal-adjacent “we’re here” tour focused on legacy rather than privacy, and one that has placed unusual attention on a city seemingly unprepared for the fuss.
Their destination was the Community Recording Studio, a youth charity Harry has supported since 2013. The organisation helps disadvantaged young people from the area build confidence, practical skills and a stronger sense of direction.
There is little conventional glamour in this part of St Ann’s. The centre sits on a street alongside a Dulux decorating centre, a Kick Fit gym and a garage workshop.
Even so, Harry and Meghan stepped out and waved with the enthusiasm of celebrities greeting a packed Hollywood Bowl, rather than a modest crowd gathered on an industrial estate on an overcast Thursday morning in the East Midlands.
So what, exactly, is happening here? And who is this performance really for?
Around 200 people had gathered outside the centre. Unfortunately for Harry and Meghan, roughly 70 per cent appeared to be members of the media—and, more unfortunately still, I was among them.
The Duke and Duchess of Sussex arrived in a Range Rover at the first stop of their quasi-official Nottingham visit, a royal-adjacent tour focused on legacy rather than privacy.
Around 200 people gathered outside the centre, but roughly 70 per cent were members of the media—and, as JAN MOIR writes, she was among them.
“You are that witch from the Daily Mail,” an angry woman shouted, waving the supermarket flowers she had brought for Meghan.
I paused. Which witch, exactly? Competition for that particular distinction in my office is fierce.
Another woman, carrying a unicorn balloon and a large bouquet of lilies wrapped in tissue paper, declined to speak. “I’m just here to support the charity and give these flowers to Meghan. I don’t want any publicity,” she said.
That is fair enough. Still, I wondered whether these were the official flowers—and whether buying an expensive bouquet for a multimillionaire wearing Jennifer Chamandi shoes, a pencil skirt from The Fold, a jumper and coat from Joseph, and a diamond-encrusted Oura fitness tracker ring was really the best use of anyone’s money.
I did not even laugh when a gust of wind blew the legs off the unicorn balloon. I was not in Nottingham to quarrel with the local Sussex Squad. I had come to remember, compare and consider how a story that once seemed so promising had taken such a difficult turn.
Nearly nine years earlier, on a cold December day, I had stood on the High Pavement in Nottingham’s historic Lace Market to watch Prince Harry and his newly engaged fiancée, Meghan Markle, make their first official public appearance together. It was, genuinely, a magical occasion.
The couple visited the Himmah Hub, a Nottingham charity addressing poverty, food insecurity, racism and social exclusion, where they took part in a cooking demonstration.
Thousands of people filled the streets as Nottingham effectively came to a standstill. There was cheering, bunting and an unmistakable sense of excitement. During the couple’s 25-minute walkabout, I even shook Harry’s hand as laughter and warm wishes echoed around us.
Meghan appeared completely at ease. Displaying her engagement ring, she looked poised, confident and radiant—like a bride-to-be who had finally found her Prince Charming.
This is what I wrote about her at the time: “The newest member of the Royal Family took everything in her stride.”
“Charming everyone who had queued in the cold to meet her and wish her well, she could chat about the weather, admire babies and even smile when people repeatedly told her that ‘Diana would have loved you’.”
I described it as a “dazzling and confident debut” by “a remarkable young woman… who was not born to be a princess but moves with ease in her brave new world”.
It was indeed a new dawn –newspapers were calling her appearance on the scene ‘the Markle Sparkle’, unaware that the bubble would burst sooner rather than later. Little did anyone know on that hopeful morning that we were witnessing not just history in the making but the beginning of a royal fairytale that was to curdle quicker than a £5 As Ever chocolate left to rot in the Californian sun.
Harry licks icing from his hand as he and Meghan decorate birthday cupcakes at Epic Partners
Not only that, but it was also the start of a calamitous period that would rock the monarchy, tarnish an entire country and cast a shadow over the last years of those doughty royal stalwarts, Queen Elizabeth and Prince Philip. And that was a fate they did not deserve.
With their public accusations of racism, bullying, lack of support, general peeve and never being asked if they were OK, Harry and Meghan changed everything – but ultimately what they changed most of all was the way the British public felt about them.
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In 2017, the people of Nottingham came out to see them in their thousands. Today, that number is barely in the dozens.
The Sussexes couldn’t have cleared the streets here more efficiently if they had turned a water cannon on the crowds – and perhaps, in a way, that is exactly what they did. However, there is still excitement in some quarters at their royal presence. Not everyone is disgruntled.
At first sight of the royal couple, a few women in the throng at the Community Recording Studio start ululating. Then one lone voice shrieks: ‘We love you Meghan!’ What can I say? It wasn’t me.
Some curious onlookers in trackies shuffle forward like extras in a zombie movie. A group of schoolchildren in red fleeces are corralled in front to greet the royal visitors. ‘Are you Californian?’ one of them asks Meghan. ‘Yes, I am. Have you ever been to California?’ she replies.
The Duchess means well, of course, but what kind of question is that to ask a little girl in scuffed trainers in a low-income area of one of the most deprived cities in the UK?
Meghan gives her a big duchessy smile and moves on down the line, chic in her luxe plum separates. Harry is in front of her, his waxen head bent low to talk to the children. ‘What class are you missing? Where are your teachers? Gimme some,’ he says, holding up his palm for a little boy to slap.
When the children tell him they will be off on half term soon, he delivers a lecture. ‘No photos, get off social media, get outside,’ he says, waggling a finger.
They both pass by me within inches, keeping their attention focused on the children.
Harry is all furze and stubble, like a clumsily clipped red squirrel, but do you know what Meghan looks like up close and personal? Rich.
She’s got the unmistakable sheen of one of those wealthy, five-ply, ‘600 thread count’, glossy-posse women who marinate in serums and luxury and never have to wonder where their next £2,000 is coming from so that they can buy a pair of oversized Ralph Lauren clown trousers.
For this trip, their first quasi-official outing since returning to the UK, the duke and duchess have put together a little schedule of do-good works and ‘spread the charity bread’ appointments, mostly visiting the kind of grassroots organisations they have been involved with for years.
If this was a first step in resurrecting their public life in the UK, it was a very small one – perhaps even timid. After the Community Recording Studio, the couple visited the Himmah Hub, a Nottingham charity tackling poverty, food insecurity, racism and social exclusion – quite the full menu there.
Afterwards they left via a rear entrance, annoying the small crowd who had waited for 90 minutes to catch a glimpse of them. Apparently, there had been cooking demos and a bracelet-making class.
Did Meghan enjoy her time there? ‘Yah, it was really meaningful, thank you for asking,’ she told ITV, before slipping back inside her car.
The Duke and Duchess of Sussex were ferried around the city in a convoy of two Range Rovers, with beefy bodyguards stacked in both.
There was also backup from Nottingham Police, with at least one unmarked police car and one traffic police car in attendance. Three community policemen were also on hand to help with crowd control, but their services were not required.
As the couple pitched up at the last stop of the day, a television reporter shouted: ‘Do you feel safe today, Harry?’ – a query that was icily ignored.
We were at Epic Partners in Edale Road, an acronym which is Empowering Positive and Inspirational Change.
As with all the causes espoused by these various companies over the course of today – coaching and unemployment, bringing communities together, coping with the prospect of financial hardship, building family skills, creating opportunities – it crossed my mind that the people most in need of these skills are the Sussexes themselves.
Again, a small crowd had gathered outside the community centre, which had a tattered strip of bunting wrapped around the barbed wire on the roof. If one were looking for a metaphor, there it was in all its ragged glory. The leader of the centre embraced Meghan as she approached the entrance. ‘So pleased you are here,’ he enthused.
‘Yeeees,’ was all she could muster by way of reply. Well. It had been a long day in Nottingham.
It had also been a revealing day, a very cringe day, a day in which two people couldn’t seem to decide if they were public figures or not, if they were privates on parade, ghosts in the machine, or royal contenders once more. And, to be honest, neither could I.
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