Norfolk 5 - Sandringham - the Queens Christmas house/hydrangeas and rhodedendrums,/thoughts from a welsh woman and man

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Well here we are - our last day in Norfolk. Our last visit to a stately home. We arrived in Sandringham and I did wonder why I had chosen to stay here. It should not be our cup of tea. Being Welsh we have a what some would term a warped view on our royal family. Wales has always been downtrodden by English Kings. Castles were built to overpower us. We would never like royalty with their privileged lifestyles paid for by taxpayers like us. They live in some kind of cloistered environment coming out now and again to survey the world they inhabit. Wales is not even on the British flag. So why on earth are we here. It is only going to make us dislike the rich life the Royals lead at the expense of us.

There is wealth of campsites in the area. In fact, two large ones belonging to the Camping and Motorhome Club and the Camping and Caravan Club. Both sit within mature woodlands and probably pay rent to the Queen. The sites are well presented with the Caravan Club one being closer - a short 30 minute stroll to Sandringham House. The plots were quite large and we were parked up next to - yes you guessed it - a tugger. He was not there but he had not spread out too much - yet. We had planned to watch the Tour de France but Kathrein despite her best attempt failed to lock on to the satelitte. Hardly surprising given the high trees which surrounded us. The wardens were friendly but would not give me my money back for not stopping there two nights. Apparently you can only cancel up to 30 days prior to your visit and I had only booked these two days a few weeks ago.

We decided in the end to walk that afternoon and get the house visit out of the way. We knew roughly where we were going and in what direction. Outside the campsite we walked up the road to the double lodge at the end of the private drive to the estate. Not for us . This was the route the Royal family would take when they were driven in by the hoards of servants who followed them on their travels. The road led off to the left . We followed it - railings to our right and large rhodedendrum bushes to our left. They would look a picture in Spring when in full flower. The grass was cut to within an inch of its life. It looked like the crease in cricket or a crown green bowling green. It was not hard to imagine gardeners out daily ensuring that no daisy or dandelion was allowed to ruin the perfect look.

Eventually we did get to the entrance with its cafes and shops. We were determined not to line the pockets of the aristocracy spending any of our hard earned money there. The ticket office was full and was manned not by volunteers but by liveried staff in their black uniforms. EIIR emblazoned on the blazers. We paid over £13 each to visit the house,, the museum and the gardens. Owch. After all our free visits to National Trust and English Heritage properties it hit the purse.

Inside folks stood about as if in awe of what they were going to see . They waited for the golf buggy to pick them up and take them a ride to the house. They ignored the sign that the buggy was for the use of the elderly or infirm. The grounds were nice - but then you would expect them to be. Yellow and Orange day lilies punctuated the border. Hydrangeas were out in full bloom. A tractor cut the grass in front of the house. Canada Geese wandered the lawn. I imagined a servant out with a poo bag collecting the duck poo so that Her Maj as Edna Everidge would say wouldnt stand in it. Why have we come ? We just feel out of place and ever so slightly angry.

The house looks exactly like it should do . We have seen it enough on postcards and on programmes about the Queen and her family. So what can I tell you about the house. It was purchased in 1862 by Queen Victoria at the request of her son the future King Edward VII. He wanted it as a home for himself and his Danish bride Princess Alexandra. He razed the house to the grounds citing it was insufficient for his needs and commissioned a larger building . More or less the one we see today. The red brick house completed in 1870 is a mix of styles with galleried entrance hall , a ballroom and family rooms. Generations since this point have come to spend holidays in this one of their holiday homes. Apparently there is good shooting here and pigeon lofts.

We walked around the back of the house and entered through the back door. A bit grander of a back door than ours at home. At the door were two liveried servants in their black uniforms checking tickets. No bags , no phones , no photos. We hoped we were going to get our monies worth in this trip but somehow we guessed we probably would not. The first room we entered was small by what we consider royal standards. Chairs and tables filled the rooms and on the tables were photographs of the Queen Mother, King George her husband , the Queen and her immediated family. On the walls were portraits of King Edward VII and various queens. In the cabinets bits and pieces that I thought were the things the royals were not fond of. The items that if they were lost or broken would not be missed . There was nothing special in the room to denote it was the Queens or Duke of Edinburghs sitting room.

The house was first opened to the public in 1977 and somehow I expected more to be on show. A second room was filled with a relatively small dining room table . Again pictures adorned the walls and menus showing the extravagant meals the royals ate were laid out on the table. A lavish life style that folks in the room seemed at ease with. Some feigned, bowed and scraped to the room guides. They seemed enthralled with this tiny biopic of royal life. We rushed through . I couldnt help myself I felt offended by even a sniff of all this wealth and lavish lifestyle. The third room on the ground floor we skipped through quickly . We had had enough. Our last room was the gun room. The walls just like a library were full of gun cabinets. Queen Victorias first gun. Edward VII's many guns and so on. We escaped . There were no more rooms to view . No bedrooms, no kitchens . If you were a Royalist you would be sadly disappointed by what you didnt see.

Outside we walked to the museum which was part of the tour. Inside were the cars that the royals had used in the past. Cars purchased by the Queen Mother , shooting brakes by Prince Philip for his hunting ventures in the Scottish Highlands at their other retreat Balmoral. Two carriages for carrying food to shoots. A MG belonging to Prince Charles. Fire fighting equipment. Rooms full of gifts from the rich and wealthy around the Commonwealth and the wider world . Why did I get the impression that these were the gifts the Queen smiled at as she received them and hid them away. Not good enough for her personal consumption but good enough for us plebs to see. Ivory carvings on massive boxes, plates and paintings, wooden boxes you name it and it was there. In the end we escaped . These two welsh folks had had enough of all this and decided to walk home. Have we ever been disappointed so much with a house? Probably not . Have we seen better? Too right we have. Has it made us like the royal family more ? No we still feel the same way about them.



When we got back to the site our tugger neighbour had returned , his car parked up next to us, his awning now spreading . He even moved his car to someone elses pitch . Time to go home. Glenns passport had arrived so we now can plan a visit abroad and get a real buzz out of being on holiday .

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