So, I got this slightly mad idea last year. I decided, for a laugh and a bit of an experiment, that I wanted to try and stage my own version of a “Royal Family Christmas Reunion.” Not with the actual royals, of course – I’m not that connected – but to try and capture some of that famous Sandringham spirit, or what I imagined it to be, with my own family.
Diving into the Details
First thing I did was go deep into research mode. I mean, I was watching documentaries, reading articles, scrolling through endless pictures online. You’d think I was planning a state visit. It turns out their Christmas is run with almost military precision. It’s not just turn up and eat turkey, oh no.
I found out loads of little things. Like how they stick to their German heritage and open presents on Christmas Eve, not Christmas Day morning. That sounded like a good one to try. Then there was the tradition of weighing guests before and after Christmas dinner – supposedly to see if they’d enjoyed themselves enough. That one, I mentally filed under ‘probably not going to happen with my lot’.
Formulating the Grand Plan
Alright, so armed with all this knowledge, I started to sketch out a plan. My house isn’t exactly a sprawling estate, and my family are, shall we say, a bit more relaxed than the Windsors. But I figured we could try a few key things.
- A ‘formal-ish’ dinner on Christmas Eve. Emphasis on the ‘ish’.
- The Christmas Eve present opening ceremony. One by one, nice and slow.
- I even toyed with the idea of designated walking paths in the garden, you know, for those brisk royal walks. That got vetoed pretty quickly by the weather, and general lack of enthusiasm for organized strolling.
- Oh, and games! Apparently, charades are a big royal tradition. That, I thought, we could definitely manage.
The Reality of the Royal Treatment
Putting it all into practice was… an experience. Let’s just say there’s a reason they have a whole household of staff. My attempt at a ‘formal’ dinner saw my nephew try to eat his soup with a fork, and my sister declare the dress code “smart casual with a hint of panic.” Bless her.
The Christmas Eve present opening was actually surprisingly successful. For once, everyone paid attention to each gift being opened, rather than it being a chaotic free-for-all. That was a nice change. We actually saw what everyone got!
The charades? Well, they descended into chaos pretty quickly, but it was fun chaos. My Uncle Bob’s impression of “The Crown” (the TV show, not the actual crown) was a particular highlight, mostly because it was completely unidentifiable but he was so committed.
As for the food, I tried to do something a bit grander than usual. Let’s just say my ambition slightly outweighed my culinary execution on a couple of dishes. But nobody went hungry, and the slightly lopsided Christmas pudding still got eaten.
What I Actually Learned
So, what came out of my little royal Christmas experiment? Well, for starters, I have a newfound appreciation for anyone who organizes big family gatherings, royal or not. It’s a lot of work!
I also realized that while all the pomp and circumstance looks impressive, it’s the simpler things that often make the best memories. The focused present opening was a genuine hit. The slightly disastrous attempt at formality just gave us more to laugh about.
It wasn’t Sandringham, not by a long shot. It was our own, slightly eccentric, version. And you know what? It was pretty good fun. I don’t think I’ll be insisting on strict royal protocol every year, but I might just keep a few of those little traditions I picked up. The good ones, anyway. The weighing-in ceremony is definitely staying firmly in the research notes and not making it into real life. No way.
