Mary Robertson

Mary Robertson



Average rating: 4.15 · 201 ratings · 13 reviews · 32 distinct works
The Diana I Knew: Loving Me...

4.03 avg rating — 116 ratings — published 1998 — 6 editions
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Kaleidoscope Mandalas Color...

4.46 avg rating — 13 ratings — published 2011 — 3 editions
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Tourette's Syndrome: The Facts

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really liked it 4.00 avg rating — 11 ratings — published 1998 — 2 editions
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Mandalas: 50 Hand Drawn Ill...

4.70 avg rating — 23 ratings — published 2010 — 12 editions
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Mini Mandalas Coloring Book...

4.80 avg rating — 5 ratings — published 2012
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Decorative Mandalas Colorin...

4.60 avg rating — 5 ratings — published 2012
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Cruelty Games -Op/026

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liked it 3.00 avg rating — 2 ratings — published 1996
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Black Background Mandalas C...

it was amazing 5.00 avg rating — 1 rating
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Tourette Syndrome

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it was amazing 5.00 avg rating — 1 rating — published 2008
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Mandalas: 50 Hand Drawn Ill...

it was amazing 5.00 avg rating — 1 rating — published 2013
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“When Lee arrived to pick me up, I introduced Diana simply as Diana Spencer. They exchanged a few brief words while I kissed Patrick good-bye, and off we went. As we struggled through the southbound traffic in Lewes, Lee and I had a conversation about Diana that seems both remarkable and humorous in retrospect.
I started out by saying, “Lee, you’ll never believe who my nanny is.” Then I told him about Diana’s title and background and how amazed and grateful I was that she was looking after Patrick so sweetly and carefully. Lee and I agreed that she was awfully pretty and down to earth.
I mentioned that she did not appear to have a steady boyfriend, and perhaps Lee might want to give her a call. Lee had a very respectable background—a good public school, university, solid career prospects, and a father who’d retired from the foreign service. Lee chuckled at my naiveté and explained that in England the social gulf between the daughter of an earl and a commoner was so great that he would never presume to ask Diana out. He reiterated that her social position and lineage were as exalted as they could possibly be. “In fact,” he added, “with her background, she’d be a suitable match for Prince Andrew.”
Direct as usual, I replied, “Forget about Prince Andrew. If her background’s as impeccable as you say, she ought to be a match for Prince Charles. She’d be perfect as the next queen of England!” Then touching on a critical qualification for any future queen, I added, “And I’d bet my life on her virtue.”
Mary Robertson, The Diana I Knew: Loving Memories of the Friendship Between an American Mother and Her Son's Nanny Who Became the Princess of Wales

“As we walked back into the hallway, Patrick held on to Diana’s hand. He was reluctant to let her go and gazed up at her with open adoration. I wish I could have taken another picture of that touching moment. With the royal staff clustering around, that was impossible. Diana seemed equally hesitant to say good-bye and bent down to squeeze Patrick tightly as we left. To Patrick that afternoon, Diana was truly a fairy-tale princess. Is it possible to imagine how her own sons felt about her?
I was tremendously proud of Patrick for being so poised and polite, so natural all afternoon. “God bless him,” I thought. “If he ever had to be on his best behavior, it was today, when it mattered so very much.” I was also feeling blissful, really floating on air, after our long and private visit with Diana and Charles. It was hard to believe that they had spent so much time with us that afternoon and later were heading to the White House to spend the evening with President and Mrs. Reagan and lots of celebrities. The often-seen photograph of Diana in a midnight blue evening gown dancing with John Travolta was taken that night.
On the taxi ride back to our hotel, we saw Diana and Charles’s limousine and security escort crossing an intersection in the distance. Our taxi driver explained to us that many streets in Washington were blocked off that day due to the important state visit of the Prince and Princess of Wales. Patrick, Adrienne, and I didn’t say a word. We just smiled and kept our visit a secret among ourselves. We all flew home later that afternoon.”
Mary Robertson, The Diana I Knew: Loving Memories of the Friendship Between an American Mother and Her Son's Nanny Who Became the Princess of Wales

“When Diana returned to work on Monday, September 16, she came directly to my bedroom and announced, “Mrs. Robertson, I have something important to tell you.” I could see out of the corner of my eye that she had a slight, mischievous grin on her face.
“Go right ahead,” I said as I continued to blow-dry my hair in front of the mirror above the dresser.
“No, Mrs. Robertson, I’d like your full attention.” I switched off my hair dryer and faced her as she stood in the doorway. “When you leave for work this morning, you’ll notice a lot of reporters and photographers at the entrance to the mews.”
I wondered aloud if the press were following either Lord Vestey, a notorious international financier, or John Browne, a bright young M.P. known as one of “Maggie’s boys,” both of whom lived on our small street.
“No, actually, Mrs. Robertson, they’re waiting for me,” Diana said with a great deal of blushing, staring at the floor, and throat clearing.
“Good heavens, Diana, why?”
“Well . . . I spent last weekend at Balmoral.”
“With Prince Andrew?” I asked, remembering my friend Lee’s comment on the way to Glyndebourne.
“No, actually, I was there to see Prince Charles.” More blushes and throat clearing, quickly followed by her disclaimer, “But he didn’t invite me. His mother did.” Hearing Diana speak of Her Majesty the Queen as “his mother” certainly gave me a clear picture of the circles in which Diana moved.
I gasped and asked, probably rather tactlessly, “Gosh, do you think there’s any chance of a romance developing?”
“Not really,” she said with noticeable regret. “After all, he’s thirty-one and I’m only nineteen. He’d never look seriously at me.” So modest, so appealing. I couldn’t imagine him not learning to love her. We certainly had.
“Well, Diana, I wouldn’t be so sure,” I replied, thinking of my prediction from July.”
Mary Robertson, The Diana I Knew: Loving Memories of the Friendship Between an American Mother and Her Son's Nanny Who Became the Princess of Wales

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