...sitting opposite me in the railway carriage. "So we've got a lovely new Princess...."
The Royal Engagement had just been announced and she was making the conventional noises about it. Her companion nodded approvingly, appropriate smiling things were said, and the conversation moved on to other topics...
It was 1986.
I was rather worried by my own mental response. I was working on a newspaper based in South London: Sarah Ferguson had been living in Clapham and so the worldwide coverage, glamourous pix of the couple etc, had a local angle for us. It all ought to have been rather fun. Suddenly, I had the thought: but is this a suitable match? Will she be able to be a princess?