The most awkward thing to happen when King Charles visited President Nixon as a young man – it was 1970, the then prince was 21 – was that officials kept wheeling out Nixon’s daughter, Tricia, to stand next to him at events. Since they were both single, on paper anyway (this was the same year Charles met Camilla), the optics were a little primitive. Here, you’re a young man; how about this young woman as a token of our esteem? I wasn’t alive, but if I know my mother, at least somewhere on Earth, someone was saying: “Tricia is a person, she’s not chattel.”
Visiting Ronald Reagan 11 years later, Charles was unaccountably handed a cup of tea with the bag still in it, and didn’t know where to put himself. Or the tea. Reagan was mortified, and still talking about it years later. You could split hairs about who was more at fault here: the tea-bringer or Charles himself, who met the occasion by merely staring at the tea. It would have been more courteous, surely, to fish out the teabag and drink it. Possibly, no one gave him a spoon; maybe they thought he always travelled with one, in his mouth.
