Back to the Fifties
I used to dream of going to the Isle of Wight. I saw it every morning on the drive to school, and when my dad played the Carpenters' version of "Ticket To Ride" on his eight-track, I thought Karen Carpenter was sad because her boyfriend was leaving her for a new life on the island. I first went there on a trip with my best schoolfriend Elizabeth, our mums and my kid brother when we were about ten or eleven. Blackgang Chine was fun, but I don't remember much else. I supposed I've been a handful of times since then, on news stories or for Cowes Week. But not for years.
I used to dream particularly of going to Osborne House, as I was obsessed with Queen Victoria and the TV series Royal Heritage. I have no idea why a simple trip across the Solent to a stately home never happened, but perhaps no one else in the family was interested.
Well, yesterday I finally went. It was a beautiful sunny day and I'm pleased to report that Osborne House was a delight. It's not at all grand or stately. One of the most elaborately decorated rooms has a billiard table in the middle of it. You can even see Queen Victoria's shower cubicle. I was enchanted particularly by Swiss Cottage, the little cottage in the grounds with vegetable gardens where the princes and princesses learnt practical skills. You can even see their wheelbarrows, each painted with their initials: P for Prince; Pss for Princess.
I had about three hours before my ferry left and I decided on a quick trip around the island. I was already regretting it by my first stop, Ryde. Seriously, the island - pretty as the countryside is - is stuck in a major timewarp. A woman in a shop refused to change a ten pound note when I wanted to buy postcards. The prevailing smell in places like Sandown is vinegar and chip-fat. I got cabin fever - will someone please let me off this island?
I used to dream particularly of going to Osborne House, as I was obsessed with Queen Victoria and the TV series Royal Heritage. I have no idea why a simple trip across the Solent to a stately home never happened, but perhaps no one else in the family was interested.
Well, yesterday I finally went. It was a beautiful sunny day and I'm pleased to report that Osborne House was a delight. It's not at all grand or stately. One of the most elaborately decorated rooms has a billiard table in the middle of it. You can even see Queen Victoria's shower cubicle. I was enchanted particularly by Swiss Cottage, the little cottage in the grounds with vegetable gardens where the princes and princesses learnt practical skills. You can even see their wheelbarrows, each painted with their initials: P for Prince; Pss for Princess.
I had about three hours before my ferry left and I decided on a quick trip around the island. I was already regretting it by my first stop, Ryde. Seriously, the island - pretty as the countryside is - is stuck in a major timewarp. A woman in a shop refused to change a ten pound note when I wanted to buy postcards. The prevailing smell in places like Sandown is vinegar and chip-fat. I got cabin fever - will someone please let me off this island?