The Lodge

I’d signed up for this weekend away with my college department, but I really had no idea about the place I was going to before I got there. It was weird to be leaving London really, heading out of the city, into the outskirts. After the security check at one entrance, it seemed like I was transported, back to somewhere more like the area I grew up. Trees everywhere, giving the light that underwater, filtered feeling that just automatically imbues you with a sense of calm introspection.

Of course, the best part about this place wasn’t the trees, but the house. Cumberland Lodge. An old style, traditional English country house, complete with decor to match. Every corner held some new, unique and fascinating detail, from the richly coloured walls, to the paneled ceilings or gigantic, cast iron, clawfoot bathtubs.

As college students do, when given any opportunity, we spent much of the weekend getting drunk, although we did attend the fun lectures we were there for too, like the one about the science of life in the universe. Of course, that wasn’t as interesting to us at 19 as the science of life in our own personal universes was, but still, even the lectures here were different, the converted ballrooms and stables turned into conference halls were fascinating, filled with plush, heavy chairs. Far better than the plastic and plywood things we were used to spending many painful hours on.

I think the weirdest part of my weekend though, had to be the church service on the sunday morning. Feeling hungover and sleep deprived, we walked a few minutes down the shaded paths to a tiny old stone chapel. It couldn’t hold more than a hundred people, if that. When we got inside, it was darker than I expected. Very pretty, but full of deep and rich coloured woods and shadowy panels. That musty old smell some churches get, a mixture of furniture polish and old lady.

We were only allowed to sit on the right side of the church, where one massive panel hid half of the front from us. The locals or regulars (surely that applies better to bars than churches?) were the only ones allowed to sit on the left.

An hour or so later, we emerged from the church like larvae from a chrysalis, blinking in the sun, only to find the Royal Family standing off to one side. It hadn’t been clear during the service that they were even present, but when we came out, there they were. The Queen, her mother, Prince Phillip and Prince Edward. They actually came over to talk to us, to find out where we were from, and who these ruffians invading their private chapel were. I talked with the Queen Mother, so tiny and fragile seeming, even then. She asked if we’d had a chance to experience the park, because it was so lovely that time of year. She asked me what college we were from and what our lectures were about. Only a few sentences, of no real consequence, but still, it’s not something I’ll ever forget. Not many people get a chance to meet them in such an informal and private way, no cameras or security really visibly present, just the family going about their normal sunday routine.

Still, it’s one of the most surreal experiences I’ve ever had, meeting the Queen. All I can hold onto is this; the Queen wore red, and her mother wore blue.