Amidst the screams during his visit to the Sydney Opera House, Prince Harry shared a special moment with a fellow war veteran. The Prince, in army fatigues after completing a military exercise, bent down and chatted with 95 year-old Daphne Dunne. 

Her first husband served in Tobruk before being posthumously awarded the Victoria Cross, and her second husband served in Changi. Harry spent time talking about the VC, as well as Daphne’s own wartime position as a corporal in the Australian Women’s Army Service. 

“He asked me about the Victoria Cross, he said he recognised it,” said Ms Dunne. “It was really wonderful! Harry’s just a really natural guy and I think he’s a lot of fun.” Ms Dunne has met every senior member of the royal family. 

Wrapping up the chat, Harry said, “I have to go soon, I’m keeping the Governor-General waiting, but I’ll give you a peck on the cheek,” before landing a goodbye kiss with Ms Dunne.

I am the twentieth century. I am the ragtime and the tango; sans-serif, clean geometry. I am the virgin’s-hair whip and the cunningly detailed shackles of decadent passion. I am every lonely railway station in every capital of Europe. I am the Street, the fanciless buildings of government. the cafe-dansant, the clockwork figure, the jazz saxophone, the tourist-lady’s hairpiece, the fairy’s rubber breasts, the travelling clock which always tells the wrong time and chimes in different keys. I am the dead palm tree, the Negro’s dancing pumps, the dried fountain after tourist season. I am all the appurtenances of night.
—  Thomas Pynchon

You are the first sip of hot tea before a morning flight
The rush of heat running down my soul
The sweetness of earl grey which delights me to the bone
You are the steam of the half filled cup in the cafe corner
The warmth of the holder’s hand
The calm before the storm 
My burning wheel of the sun,
Forever I will chase the never ending light,
Your fire burns me the way supernovas light up the night
What legends are made of; burn into the darkness, burn and never fade.