Occasionally I find myself in the palaces not merely of the rich, but of the titled. One of my earliest bookings was with the child of a prince of a Middle Eastern Royal Family. The house’s geography, like the family’s status, was situated midway between Buckingham Palace and Harrods.
I was not alone in working with this young prince. There was a group of us working with his highness at different hours to help him with his core subjects for GCSE. I was hired to teach Maths and arrived to find the child dwarfed by the cavernous proportions of the family’s Georgian residence, hunched over a dining table so polished you could have applied make up in its reflection. Every pencil and piece of paper was mirrored by the luster of its glassy black surface. Sadly, once the lesson started, this was about as clear as things got.
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