When the Prince and Princess of Wales bought pizza for mountain rescue workers, they met a man selling pizza and wrote a touching funeral speech for him.
Father of two Peter Morris, who was 47 years old, died of cancer in May, not long after Kate was told she had it.
On notepaper from Kensington Palace, Prince William wrote his wife Tracey a letter of condolence. When he died, it was read.
“I can’t even begin to imagine what a huge hole he will leave in your life,” he wrote. “My heart goes out to you and your family.”
“Catherine and I had a great time meeting Pete.”
“We know Pete was a very dedicated and well-liked member of the community because of how people have responded to his death.”
“I wanted you to know that you and your family are thinking about you right now.”
In April of last year, Kate and Wills bought 12 pizzas from Peter’s converted VW van for £127.50. Peter is from Ebbw Vale in South Wales.
They gave the Central Beacons Mountain Rescue Team a choice of pizzas while they were at Dowlais Rugby Club in Merthyr Tydfil. The pizzas were margarita, pepperoni, BBQ chicken, and goats cheese.
At the time, Peter said, “They were really nice.” When I was setting up the business, I never would have thought that one day I would work for the young king.
In 2016, Pete opened Little Dragon Pizza Van.
He had beaten esophageal cancer, but doctors found it in his adrenal gland and liver four months after he became a royal. He died in less than a year, but the business keeps going.
The letter from William will be framed for Pete’s daughters, who are eight and five years old.
Tracey, who is 40 years old, told The Sun, “It was a huge surprise.” I have no idea how they learned that Pete had died. Because Kate is getting help, it may have struck a chord with them.
“He talked about how normal they were.”
“Many people wrote to tell us they loved Pete, but the letter from William and Kate was the most lovely.”
William wrote his wife Tracey a letter of condolence on paper from Kensington Palace.
My Neighbor Kept Hanging out Her Panties Right in Front of My Son’s Window, So I Taught Her a Real Lesson
The underwear of my neighbor turned into the star of a suburban farce, stealing the show directly outside my son’s 8-year-old window. Jake’s innocent question about whether her thongs were slingshots made me realize that the “panty parade” needed to end and that it was time to teach her some prudence when doing the laundry.
Oh, suburbia: a place where everything seems perfect, the air filled with the scent of freshly cut grass, and life goes on without incident until someone changes everything. At that point, Lisa, our new neighbor, showed up. Everything had been rather quiet until wash day, when I saw something for the first time that had caught me off guard: a rainbow of her panties flapping outside Jake’s window like flags at a dubious parade.I nearly choked on my coffee one afternoon while folding Jake’s superhero underwear and happened to look out the window. And there they were, lacy and blazing pink and very much on show. Ever the inquisitive child, my son glanced over my shoulder and posed the dreaded query, “Mom, why is Mrs. Lisa wearing her underpants outside? And why are there strings on some of them? Are they for her hamster companion?I tried to explain between choked laughter and horrified astonishment. However, Jake’s imagination was running wild as he pondered whether Mrs. Lisa had aerodynamically engineered underpants and was indeed a superhero. He even expressed a desire to participate, proposing that his Captain America boxers be displayed next to her “crime-fighting gear.” Jake would get curious and Lisa’s laundry would flap in the breeze on a daily basis. But I realized it was time to terminate this farce when he offered to hang his own underpants next to hers. So, prepared to settle the dispute amicably, I marched over to her residence. Before I could say anything, Lisa answered the door and made it plain that she wasn’t going to break her laundry routine for anyone. She dismissed my worries with a laugh, advised me to “loosen up,” and even gave me style tips for my own clothes. Despite my frustration, I remained resolute and devised a cleverly trivial scheme. Using the brightest fabric I could find, I made the biggest, flashiest pair of granny panties ever that evening. When Lisa departed the following day, I hung my work of art directly in front of her window. When she came back, the sight of the enormous underwear with a flamingo print almost took her breath away. It was worth every stitch to watch her lose her cool trying to take down my practical joke. After a while, she gave in and agreed to shift her laundry somewhere less noticeable, all the while I silently celebrated my success. After that, Lisa’s laundry disappeared from our shared vision, and everything returned to normal. What about me? In the end, I had some flamingo-themed curtains that served as a constant reminder of the day I prevailed in the suburban laundry war.
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