Was it just six months ago that I found myself waiting in a beautiful downstairs room inside Clarence House to meet the then Prince of Wales, now King Charles III?
It simultaneously seems just like yesterday and a lifetime ago.
I was invited to Charles’ residence in my role as editor of the Powerlist, an annual publication which celebrates the most influential Black people in Britain. HM (or, as then, HRH) wanted to meet the Powerlist team and Powerlistees as they’re called, to hear more about our work and the people being celebrated.
There were pictures of his family, including Prince Harry and Meghan, on a side table and a painting of Jamaica which I believe had been a gift to the Queen Mother from Noel Coward.
There are so many different opinions about monarchy and the Royal Family.
It wouldn’t be betraying any confidences to say some people were less than enthusiastic and politely said they’d rather not attend.
But it’s quite something to receive a card with a personal invitation from the future King to a reception at his home.
But so much, of course, has changed for him and for us since then.
I’m not quite sure what I was expecting. Maybe for Prince Charles to pop in, whizz around and then leave almost as quickly as he arrived.
But it was very much the opposite of a whistle-stop visit. He arrived from a morning event in Southend-on-Sea – oh the glamour.
Then, clutching a cup of tea on a saucer, he took his time to meet the assembled guests, grouped in bunches of five or six. Far from rushing, he greeted everyone with the same warmth and affection.
He asked us questions and he wanted to hear more, something I wasn’t expecting at all.
He was relaxed and at ease. He smiled easily, listened intently and chatted with around 70 guests.
He wanted to know how we found people on the list and how it was all put together.
Ever the sufferer of imposter syndrome, I did wonder how little old Eva ended up speaking with the future King of England at his house.
He afforded the same grace to everyone he met.
His late mother the Queen had recently been diagnosed with Covid and he accepted our well wishes to her warmly – even if he was told the same thing 50 times.
There was none of the pen-related irritability we saw this week. But he’s allowed to be irritated, right.
Grieving the loss of a beloved parent is something that most of us get to do in private with family and loved ones. I have.
It’s hugely private and intimate, yet Charles is doing it in front of the whole world and there is no hiding place.
What a bizarre system the hereditary process is – one that means in order to get the top job, the person you hold most dear has to die.
Watching him walk behind his mother’s coffin, I saw past a King and instead witnessed a grieving man who knows the enormity of the role he now has to play as the country’s head of state.
Naturally, the smile and ease I observed just a few months ago were gone, replaced with something far more serious.
I hope in the months to come he is able to smile again.
