Yesterday, we went to Osborne House for the Victorian Christmas event. It looked gorgeous – really Christmassy. Unfortunately, my son was enthusiastic about going to see Father Christmas in his Grotto. So we paid the three quid and joined the queue. And waited. And waited. And waited. Seriously – the lady who took our money said it was a 25 minute wait but it was actually an hour and a half before we got to the front of the queue. We ended up playing I spy with the girls immediately behind us. We weren’t the only ones getting cross about it – the two guys at the front of the queue were clearly told to go on a charm offensive through the queue to stop all the bad tempered looking women complaining.
Now, the thing is, I am rather conflicted – when we actually got in there, the Father Christmas was the Best Father Christmas I Have Ever Met. Really, he was spot on. So that was great. But the queue was just plain unacceptable. So should I complain or not?
After The Longest Queue EVER, we went into the house and met Queen Victoria.
She was graciously receiving her subjects so my son had a nice, long chat with her. In fact, the house was looking brilliant – it’s just the sort of place that does Christmas well.
My photos inside the house aren’t all that brilliant – it’s quite dark and this makes it more difficult.
Apart from all the Christmas stuff, Osborne House is a great place to visit. When I next have time, I’m going to have a look through their plants (by the time we got to the plants section, the kids were completely done).