a day at the palace

‘Just stand up there,’ she said. ‘It won’t break. See, the cushion comes off.  Oh, there’s nothing underneath?  Well, I said it wouldn’t break.  That’s it.  Now if you could just climb up the other side…’

Instead of watching the royal wedding, I spent the morning taking pictures of Falkland Palace for a friend’s book.  She was rather more used to making herself at home in palaces than I was.  But we got a good few photos in the end, despite my reservations.

(no, Rosemary, No, don’t take it down.  Yes, I wanted a picture of the cross.  But I’m not sure we should.  No.  Don’t worry.  It’s fine. Really.  No, please don’t take it off the wall.  Or move the Chinese Lamp.  Really…)

It was a good and eccentric end to a good  (and eccentric) week.

But now it really is time to watch the wedding.   Surely it can’t be that the weathervane at Falkland has a better crown than the new duchess?

4 thoughts on “a day at the palace”

  1. This wasn’t quite as bad as it sounds. We had permission to be there and to be taking photographs for The Grand Designer — Rosemary’s book on the 3rd Marquis of Bute.
    Getting the photos of the busts of the children was crucial — but harder than expected…

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