Royalty

When eating dinner in the presence of Her Majesty at Balmoral, one must remain until the Queen's pipers have played. To leave before the monarch would be in bad taste. Oh - and this happens every night.

You probably didn't know that.

You might not know, either, that Prince Charles, before strolling the grounds at Balmoral, phones the Queen's private secretary to make sure it's OK - Her Majesty might prefer the grounds to herself.

Or that Prince Philip must contact the Queen's secretary to see if she is free for luncheon. And that some evenings the Queen prefers to eat dinner alone on a TV tray while watching her favorite programs, apparently worn out from a week of people kissing up to her.

And how do I know these fascinating tidbits? It's all in The Diana Chronicles, Tina Brown's retelling of the Diana years.

It is a fascinating read. Well, perhaps not for everyone, but for me, definitely.

I confess, I have not always had this proclivity toward all things royal. Before Diana, the House of Windsor was decidedly dull. This is the woman, the queen, who, upon returning from a lengthy overseas trip, shook her 5-year-old son's hand. The dogs, the horses, the tramps through the bogs in Wellingtons - not exciting stuff. With the exception of Princess Margaret - who early on decided to tow the royal line - they were a rather tiresome group.

But the post-separation Diana made things fun. They needed someone to shake things up. To wear clothing designed after 1955.

In 1976-77, we lived in England, in a tiny hamlet called Repton. It was the year of the Queen's Silver Jubilee. Our village, like all of them throughout Britain, had massive Jubilee celebrations on the green. It was a carnival atmostphere, with games and prizes. All students were presented with Jubilee Crowns (coins) and spoons to commemorate the occasion. And I got a coffee mug for my birthday - it sits in my china cabinet to this day, holding my crown and spoon.

Four years later, in 1980-81, my father was on sabbatical in Northern Ireland. This was the year of the royal marriage, and he brought home some of the many millions of items emblazoned with best wishes for the happy couple - I have a tea towel (a popular British souvenir, for those who don't know) and a T-shirt. He also bought a book called Not the Royal Wedding, a wickedly funny spoof of the nuptials, including a photo of Prince Philip talking to Princess Anne, who looks remarkably like a horse ...

I got up early to watch the weddings of Princess Anne, of Charles and Diana, and of Andrew and Sarah. His occurred just before I went to spend a semester in London, in 1986. This must have been at the height of the Wales' marriage difficulties. She seemed pretty but rather vapid. We heard rumors - I heard that they were adulterous, that if Diana had been off the front pages of the papers for a few days, that she would wear something particularly outrageous.

I didn't believe any of it. Silly me.

I think it was all true. If you've read any of these books - and I confess, I have - from Paul Burrell to Andrew Morton to Simone what's-her-name - they all paint the same picture: a Diana who was sooo young, so unprepared, and left on her own to deal with a very rigid, very strange, and very isolating existence, one where infidelity by one's husband was simply accepted and never discussed, where one simply does as one is told.

Diana, it appears, did not always deal with it in a mature fashion. She threw fits, she was petty and manipulative. She was not that bright, not well educated, not an intellectual by any means. But she did grow into a savvy woman, one who figured out her role and knew how to get what she wanted by using the press.

She could be mean and vindictive. It was she, apparently, who anonymously blew the whistle on others' behavior, hoping to detract from her own exploits. She cut off her friends for minor transgressions, after expecting them to answer her every beck and call, every whim. After the Andrew Morton book, when she told certain of her friend sto cooperate, she later cut off these same friends for betraying her. Her ladies-in-waiting were sent out at all hours to get her whatever she wanted. And if they displeased her, she quit speaking to them and could be cruel.

Yet knowing all this, knowing how spoiled she was, I still have a soft spot for her. She used. She was young - only 19 - and there is no way she was prepared for the role being thrust upon her. She was not sophisticated enough to handle the job nor the stress, and she and Prince Charles had nothing in common. She was duped into thinking this could ever work.

Sure, she was petty and did not behave well. But she used her talents, such as they were, to bring relief to others. You can't argue with her charity work. Maybe her reasons weren't as altruistic as she might have had you think. But she lent her name and credibility to causes when they needed them most - touching AIDS patients, showing the world that they were still human.

And let's face it - she looked fantastic. Not early on, but by the 90s, she was a knockout.

Absolutely fabulous.

Like her or not, the book is amazing. It's the same story, but told in a completely captivating way by Brown, former editor of Vanity Fair and The New Yorker. The details are smoking - more than you ever wanted to know about Charles and his bedroom predilections - and while parts of it are making me uncomfortable, it's hard to put down.

Diana may not have really given us much. But she gave us a story so good that no fiction writer could have come up with it. They wouldn't have dared.