Long ago, before he dreamed up the name Spare for his score-settling and embittered memoir, before he allowed claims of racism to reverberate around the heads of an outraged and offended , and before even was a glint in his eye, the centre of 's universe revolved around a charity he named Sentebale.
To set it up and pay the bills, he threw himself into fundraising, from glossy polo-playing tournaments to a distinctly unglamorous and gruelling 1,000-mile charity motorcycle ride he undertook across the dustbowl of southern Africa. And in his wake the money came rolling in, with sponsors queuing up with open cheque books, eager to be up-close with this most charismatic of royals.
It brought purpose and meaning to his at times chaotic life. And it was therapeutic to a young man still haunted by the death of his mother when he was only 12.
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