(...)
Prince Philip was a funny man who liked to laugh and make others laugh. Asked why he and the Queen hadn't sat in the throne-like chairs provided for them during the 2012 Jubilee River Pageant, his wry comment was: 'We'd have looked like Mr and Mrs Beckham, wouldn't we?'
He knew that he was often portrayed as 'a cantankerous old sod' (his phrase, not mine), but pointed out: 'You arrive somewhere and you go down that receiving line... I get two or three of them to laugh. Always.'
(...)
He read both the first and the second drafts of this book, but the only corrections he offered were to 'facts', not 'opinions' — and he always focused on detail.
His last letter to me, written from Windsor Castle, was full of characteristic dry humour and his trademark double exclamation marks (!!); it was signed 'Yours ever'. But I'm mindful of the former prime minister James Callaghan's observation: 'What senior royalty offer you is friendliness, not friendship. There's a difference.'
In the public arena, the Prince Philip you'd see — the outer man — was accessible (if a little forbidding), confident, bantering, outspoken.
The private Prince Philip — the inner man — was infinitely more difficult to reach. He was more sensitive, more thoughtful and more tolerant than you'd expect, but he kept these qualities hidden. His manner appeared open; his instinct was to be watchful.
Whoever you were, he didn't let you get too close. I said as much to him once. He replied briefly, smiling a wintry smile: 'It's safer that way.' Nevertheless, there were times when I felt like a proper friend, or as much of a friend as you can be with a man who is 30 years your senior and the husband of the head of state. Sitting alone with him in his library at Buckingham Palace, sharing a drink, I found him completely unstuffy.
(...)
He never talked openly about his feelings for the Queen, because that wasn't his style, but it was clear from his every action that he was fiercely protective of her. The essence of his life was to support her.
Little wonder that in the immediate aftermath of his death, millions have been moved by the realisation of just how much he meant to the Queen — and of how lonely the rest of her reign will inevitably be. The duke told me he wasn't afraid of dying. 'Death is part of life,' he said. 'You've got to face it. You've got to accept it — with a good grace.' He laughed. 'When you get to my age, there's a lot of it about.'
Death had been part of Prince Philip's life from the beginning. His grandfather, King George I of Greece, was assassinated a few years before he was born. His favourite sister, Cécile, was killed in an aeroplane accident when he was still a teenager.
His favourite uncle (and guardian), George Milford Haven, died of cancer soon afterwards. His father, Prince Andrew of Greece, died when Philip was just 23. His other favourite uncle, Earl Mountbatten of Burma, was murdered by the IRA in 1979.
'I'm quite ready to die,' the duke said to me. 'It's what happens — sooner or later.' Again, he smiled. 'I certainly don't want to hang on until I am 100, like Queen Elizabeth [the Queen Mother]. I can't imagine anything worse.
'I have absolutely no desire to cling on to life unnecessarily. Ghastly prospect.'
(...)
When Catherine Middleton came along as a potential bride for his grandson, the Duke of Edinburgh was, he told me, 'relieved to find her such a level-headed girl'.
But he refused to take any credit for the successful way in which Catherine has merged into the Royal Family — becoming a star, but somehow managing not to behave like a celebrity.
'If you believe the attention is for you personally,' he told me, 'you're going to end up in trouble. The attention is for your role, what you do, what you're supporting.
'It isn't for you as an individual. You are not a celebrity. You are representing the Royal Family. That's all.
'Don't look at the camera. The Queen never looks at the camera. Never.
'Look at who you're talking to. Look at what you've come to see. Diana looked at the camera.'
I have been on walkabout with the Duchess of Cambridge. And she never looks at the camera.
(...)
He cared more about his public image than you may imagine. Over the years, he'd been particularly distressed by the steady stream of stories about his supposed extra-marital love-life.
'Not long ago,' he wrote to me once, 'I was interviewed for one of the broadsheet magazines. It may interest you to know that, among several questions, the interviewer told me it was commonly believed that, and wanted me to say whether, I had any illegitimate children, my second son was fathered by someone else and I had a homosexual relationship with Giscard D'Estaing!!'
As he saw it, suing was never the answer: 'It's a cumbersome and costly process and gives more coverage to the libel. 'Queen's husband in court'— oh, yes? No smoke without fire . . .'
(...)