Two of Meghan’s friends come over for a pyjama party, which I did not realise was a thing past the age of 12. This is the most insufferable section. Osaka is press-ganged into decorating a plate for her daughter, and when she mentions in a moment of honesty that she has no time to relax at home because she has a young child to run after, Meghan says: “But that’s the good kind of non-relaxation, right? The stuff that is so soul-filling and amazing!” “Yeah,” murmurs Osaka, her soul visibly draining from her body.
Meghan makes one allusion to her former life, when she recalls pulling crackers while living in the UK (“They cross arms and all pull at the same time – it actually does feel really connective and sweet”). Other than that, there is no mention of Christmas at Sandringham, or “Hotel Granny” as Harry referred to it in his memoir.
At least dear old Harry makes an appearance. He turns up five minutes from the end, let out of the pantry where he has been locked since the end of series one. “Thank you for coming,” says Meghan, momentarily forgetting that this is her husband and not another of her invited guests. He is appalled at the sight of a beetroot, pickled vegetable, black olive, anchovy and fennel salad (“Oh, wow, that’s like the anti-salad,” he says) and who can blame him? Just give the poor man a sausage roll and let him have a happy Christmas.
With Love, Meghan: Holiday Celebration is on Netflix now
