Dear Lulu,
The Prince of Transylvania? So Charles is not merely The Prince of Wales then. Whilst Chas the Spoilt may be centuries from Vlad the Impaler, genealogists have traced Charles’ bloodline, as it were, to the other prince. Well, well. Quite the well-kept secret. All along we had thought the ex-Tory leader, Michael Howard was the only one who “had something of the night about him”.
PC is moving closer to his roots by putting down roots: he’s buying a single-storey ruined farmhouse in the town of Viscri complete with a cobbled courtyard and pens for chickens, pigs, goats. No cows? Marie Antoinette would be so disappointed. Pinafores for peasants? The to-be-let most of the year farmhouse was built in the early 1800’s according to a dwelling plan from his next of kin, Vlad’s epoch .
PC has retreated to this preserved medieval existence four times in four years. On one visit, while having a royal picnic (ah, shades of Maria Antoinette yet again?) a horseman galloped up through a clearing and threw himself at the prince’s titled feet. Our prince’s bodyguards leapt up to save Charles from an impending death by smothering. Halt! Away with those swords! The humble villager merely wanted to pay homage in the only manner he knew: medieval. Perchance the prince was heard to say: “Mi casa es su casa…I mean su casa es mi casa.”
The village itself is closer to the 14th century than the twenty-first; horse and cart is the method of transportation. Local councillor and one of the twenty-five descendents of the original Saxon settlers: “If we can bring more people to invest and spend money here it will help the local people stay.” Exactly how far do we think they could actually go on an old horse drawn cart? Certainly not to the UK. Conservatives are foaming at the mouth at the prospect of an imminent Roma invasion with their EU membership in January. The local councillor continued: “We have something very special which you in England have lost. It is in our architecture and in our environment.” Hmmm. So tourist mecca medieval York is an illusion? A hologram? Well, I for one was completely fooled.
There are obvious advantages with the arrival of royal favour: the locals will learn how to bow and curtsey, tourists will flock, and the building of the Draculaland theme park will be thwarted. Charles The Scribbler wrote to the Romanian president to state his opposition. ‘Stop all future blood-thirst…be it blood-red candyfloss, ice cream or popcorn. ‘
Chas put pen to paper after one of his visits: “I was deeply impressed by the natural beauty and cultural richness of what I saw. The area represents a lost past for most of us – a past in which villages were intimately linked to their landscape.” I’m imagining tree houses or maybe caves. It appears that our prince will break with local convention by having a bath and an inside lavatory. So much for authenticity; royal roots prevail.
From The Impaler to The Inhaler: Chas discovers Bob Marley. No more card playing unemployed Jamaicans sharing sizeable spliffs. No more marauding gun toting gangs shooting with buoyant abandon. PC has plans to clean up a Yardie ghetto in Jamaica that was home to Marley.
Concrete apartment blocks in Trenchtown will be replaced by idyllic traditional lime-washed bungalows housing 3,000, enveloped by swaying palms. An estate agent claims: “The place has the worst crime rate in Kingston….the place looks like a war zone.”
The project is PC’s first big venture abroad after his bizarrely successful fantasy world of urban planning – Poundbury in Dorset – where deliriously happy Brits live in delightful cooperative bliss. And then there are the rest of us, excluding the massive property owning landed gentry of course, facing unavailable affordable housing for first time buyers with frenzied, spiralling house prices forecast to increase yet another 30% within the next 5 years. How is that possible? Prices have already doubled, tripled in the last 5 years. Less than 10% of the country is built on, while 89% live in densely packed towns and cities. Pigs, goats, carts, outhouses…cart me off…I’m turning up the collar on my long black cape with the red satin lining concealing my Laura Ashley pinny as I write.
TTFN
Maggie
Past Letters
Smile, You're On Candid Camera - 7 November 2006
Too Good To Be True - 22 October 2006
Putting His Money Where His House Is - 4 October 2006
What? Me Worry? 19 September 2006
It's a Bird, It's a Plane...It's Planned Demolition - 11 September
I Smell, Therefore I Am - 25 August 2006
I Can't Breathe in This - 16 August 2006
Is it Hot or is it Hell? - 29 July 2006
Be Ashamed...Be Very Ashamed - 2 July 2006
Dave's Big Clear Out - 26 June
No Jewellery on the Pitch - 7 June
'Baby You're a Rich Man, Too' - 26 May
My Hair Made Me Do It - 10 May
Foot in Mouth Disease - 22 February