Thinkers and doers (Diary of a Prince series)

I’m an intelligent man. I don’t need to brag about it.

However, this is my diary and a place I can outpour my innermost thoughts. So... if I’m honest with myself, then yes, I am a fair old brainbox. A rich aunt paid for me to be educated at the most revered institutions and I left my schooling with a notable cache of Grade One qualifications.

By contrast, Indigo attended that venerable establishment, Whitton Comprehensive, in Twickenham. She spent five years gazing out of her classroom window at the A316 – the road to freedom.

Mine truly were salad days set amid the rolling hills of Hampshire and surrounded by creative thinkers. We were the offspring of famous artists, musicians, writers and actors. Indigo says my schooling saved me and she is quite right. It rescued me from a troubled home life and instilled in me a thirst for knowledge I rarely quench. It also etched a firm mark on my consciousness, in that I am forever aware of my superior mind.

I am the thinker. She is the doer. On bank holidays Indigo will strip and paint a window frame and tell me she has kept £250 in the coffers.

I, on the other hand, loll on my Homebase sunlounger and savour words as if sampling a heavily oaked wine from an ancient cellar. Frequently, my sedentary lifestyle does not compliment hers.

Take a recent day off as an example:

“Are you not embarrassed?” she asked, after I’d spent an hour trying to locate the stopcock with the new Polish plumber.

She complained when I involved her because she was "working" at the computer and wanted me to deal with it. But these things are for domestically-minded creatures like women, not intellectuals. I therefore do not fret over such piffling matters (although I am self-taught in all things drill-related).

“Not at all,” I replied. “I am actually rather proud I know nothing about DIY.”

She then accused me of sounding like her ex, who also boasted of his lack of practical skills and “imagined himself some hoity-toity highflier from academia – the crème de la crème of British schooling.”

Great umbrance took I.

“HIS was not the kind of private school I went to!” I barked, to which she said, “oh my god, there’s a hierarchy?”

She says I’m a snob, but I’m not. I just know I’m way more intelligent than most other people. Am I to labour in self-delusion and act like an average Joe?