According to Omid Scobie’s pored-over, contentious new book Endgame: Inside the Royal Family and the Monarchy’s Fight for Survival, Prince Edward “avoids most physical contact with the great unwashed”. Not because he’s a bit rude, but because he’s allegedly a “massive germaphobe”. If true, it could explain why he avoided shaking hands with well-wishers outside Buckingham Palace last year at the funeral of his mother, Queen Elizabeth.
But the claim also got me thinking about germaphobia. What causes it? Is it a version of obsessive compulsive disorder? Am I a germaphobe? I don’t whack on latex gloves before touching a door handle. Or traipse through airports in a Hazmat suit like self-confessed germaphobe Naomi Campbell during the peak of Covid. But I often pull the plates from beneath my kids before they’ve finished eating – just so I can get on top of the mess. I spray Flash bleach on the walls around the dog bed. If somebody stays over at mine, I’m determined to change the sheets before they’ve even left. The sheer relief and scents of fresh laundry and disinfectant is like a calming balm.
