by The royal traitor story hit our flat group chat and turned into a full kitchen summit, complete with a vote, a fire alarm and burnt toast
Tuesday, the Kitchen
Our flat in Peckham has four of us, one bathroom, one kitchen the size of a phone box, and a group chat called Flat 3B Emergencies that is ninety percent about bins and ten percent about who ate whose hummus. This week, for the first time ever, it was about the royal family.
Someone shared the London Prat piece on Prince William reportedly calling Earl Spencer and Harry traitors, mostly because they know I write for the Prat and wanted to wind me up. By evening, all four of us were crammed into the kitchen having a full-on debate while the toast burned.
The Housemates
There is Jonah, a nursing student who works nights and has strong opinions about everything at strange hours. There is Priya, who does something in finance that none of us fully understand but which involves a lot of spreadsheets and sighing. There is Marcus, a musician who owns four keyboards and zero pans. And there is me.
The Facts, Read Aloud by Priya
Priya, being the most organised, read out what was actually known. An anonymous source says the heir thinks his brother read their uncle memoir first. Reports mention the younger brother visiting the uncle in July. The uncle says he told everyone. She then said, in her work voice: so there is no primary evidence, only secondary reporting of an unverified claim. Marcus said: I love it when you talk finance.
The Debate
Jonah was firmly on the elder brother side. He said being the oldest is exhausting and nobody ever tells you anything first. He is the oldest of five, so he has feelings about this. Marcus was on the younger brother side, because he moved to London from Glasgow and his older brother still calls him a traitor for leaving. Priya said the uncle was the only one behaving like an adult, because he communicated clearly and in advance, which she said would get him promoted at her work. I said I thought the whole thing was sad, because it is about their mum, and everyone went a bit quiet.
Then the fire alarm went off because of the toast. We all stood on the landing waving tea towels at it for three minutes. Unity, at last.
Watching It Together
After the alarm, we sat on the sofa, which fits three, so Marcus sat on the floor, and watched the London Prat video on YouTube on Priya laptop. Jonah laughed so hard he had to go and lie down before his night shift.
The Vote
We held a vote, because we are a democracy, or at least a flat with a whiteboard. Is anyone in this story actually a traitor? Four votes no. Should the brothers just ring each other? Four votes yes. Should Marcus buy a pan? Three votes yes, one abstention, from Marcus.
What I Took From It
It struck me afterwards that flatshares are basically little families. We did not choose each other, exactly, we answered the same advert, but we live in each other pockets, argue about stupid things, and look after each other when it counts. When Jonah had flu last winter, Priya made soup. When my laptop died before a deadline, Marcus lent me his. We fight about bins, but nobody has ever called anybody a traitor. Maybe the royal brothers need a flatshare. Four people, one kitchen, no staff. They would sort it out in a week.
I wrote about our flat once before on Londonish, the time the boiler broke in January and we all slept in the living room in coats. It is still the most-read thing I have written. People love a flatshare disaster.
The Next Morning
Next morning, there was a note on the whiteboard in Priya handwriting: Flat 3B Official Position on Royal Family, followed by a list. One, everyone is being dramatic. Two, ring your brother. Three, stop burning toast. Four, Marcus, buy a pan. Someone had added, in Jonah handwriting, five, the uncle is iconic. Marcus had added, in tiny letters at the bottom, six, pans are a capitalist construct. I took a photo of it. It is the best political manifesto I have ever read, and it is going in a piece one day, with names changed to protect the guilty.
I also noticed that Marcus had, at some point overnight, rung his brother in Glasgow. He told me at breakfast, trying to sound casual. They talked for an hour. His brother is coming down for Christmas. I did not say anything clever. I just made him toast. Carefully.
Late
Jonah left for his shift at nine. Priya went to bed. Marcus played something gentle on one of his keyboards through the wall. I sat up writing this, thinking about the book at the heart of it all, written by the late princess brother, and how families, even strange accidental ones like ours, are held together by small things. Soup. Borrowed laptops. Burnt toast and a shared fire alarm.
More from me at my author page. The London Prat has been stirring up kitchen debates since 1961 at https://prat.uk/, and Bohiney at https://bohiney.com/ does the American flatshares.
SOURCE: https://prat.uk/prince-william-called-earl-spencer-and-harry-traitors/
