I’ve photographed the Royals for 45 years and admire the King – but early on he had a cheeky pop at me
EVERY Christmas morning I set off from my Essex home for the 100-mile drive to Norfolk to see what you might call “the other family” in my life.
Whatever the weather, I have to be at St Mary Magdalene Church in Sandringham before 11am for the Windsor dynasty’s traditional festive service.
These days I take my wife Ann with me, but in years gone by it’s been a wrench leaving behind her and my three, now grown-up, children John, Paul and Annmarie.
For 45 years I’ve chronicled the Royal Family for The Sun newspaper with my camera.
I’ve witnessed their triumphs and disasters, their laughter and tears, when they have found love and when their relationships splinter.
I’m there when they emerge from the maternity wing as wailing newborns and I’m there again when they marry before a joyous nation.
READ MORE ON THE ROYALS
And when they are laid to rest, on those solemn occasions that this country marks so well, I’m on hand to capture history being made.
In September, I was at Westminster Abbey for our late Queen’s state funeral as dignitaries from across the globe looked on.
So on Christmas morning, I’m at Sandringham in good time to make sure I have the best position among the other waiting media.
Our relationship thawed
Often it’s so cold that the royal party’s breath fills the air like steam from an old-fashioned train, as they wrap up in fancy overcoats.
Most read in The Sun
Others would prefer to be at home with a sherry and a mince pie, but I’m more than happy to be there every year.
It’s my job, it’s what I do, it’s who I am.
After more than four decades of photographing the Windsors I’d like to think I’ve developed something of a rapport with them, particularly our new King Charles III and his lovely wife, the Queen Consort.
Mind you, there have been a few hiccups along the way.
Back in 1980, I was trudging down a track on Prince Charles’s Gloucestershire estate, Highgrove.
I hadn’t joined the Ramblers Association — I was using a public footpath to get closer to the house for some long-lens shots.
Suddenly, in the distance, I saw a horseman galloping towards me across the springy turf.
As the mounted figure came closer, I could make out a red-faced and irate heir-to-the-throne in the saddle.
The Prince bellowed: “What are you doing on my land?”
I replied: “It’s not your land. It’s a public footpath and I’m just doing my job.”
Charles retorted, icily: “Some job.”
“Well, at least I have a job,” I shot back.
The Prince turned puce with rage, gathered his reins and galloped off.
One of the police protection officers on duty later told me that they were having a coffee break at Highgrove when the Prince stormed in, banged his whip on the table, and yelled: “You’re supposed to be guarding me, and Arthur Edwards is on my front lawn!”
Slowly, our relationship thawed but it wasn’t until 2004 that things really changed.
The then Education Secretary Charles Clarke had branded the Prince old-fashioned and out of touch, so I went in to bat for him in the pages of The Sun.
I pointed out that his views on organic farming, architecture and health had become mainstream, writing, “You could call him a visionary.” He read the piece and realised how much I admired him.
Today, Charles calls me Arthur and I call him Your Majesty. On my landmark birthdays I receive cards and gifts from the King.
For his 70th birthday in 2018 I organised a party for Charles, with 70 Sun readers who were also celebrating the arrival of their eighth decade. He loved it.
I have huge respect for how hard he works and how passionately he has campaigned on issues such as the environment.
I think this man is special and has not yet reached his potential.
Every day he gets up and tries to do his best for people.
I’ve covered more than 200 royal tours in over 120 countries.
Sometimes it felt like my feet hardly touched the ground.
Along the way I’ve photographed seven royal weddings, five funerals and seven births.
I travelled the world with Princess Diana — a woman who looked like a film star but had the compassion of a nun.
I’ve met presidents and popes and was greeted by Nelson Mandela with the words, “Welcome to South Africa.”
Not bad for an East End boy who left school at 15.
I was born in 1940 in Epping, Essex, before being taken home to East India Dock Road, Stepney, in East London.
My dad — also called Arthur — was a lorry driver and my mum Dorothy ran the house.
A month later after Adolf Hitler had unleashed the Luftwaffe on Britain, one night our home was blown to smithereens while we were hiding in a bomb shelter.
I was evacuated to Bideford, in Devon. If I’d stayed in the East End I might not be here to write this today.
Dad died when I was 16 and Mum worked as an office cleaner to put food on the table.
She didn’t want me to end up working in the docks like most of my school mates, so she saved up to buy me a £46 Rolleiflex camera.
That was a fortune to her, I don’t know how she did it.
After leaving school, I got a job in a film-processing darkroom before becoming assistant to top fashion photographer John French.
Fondness and respect
But haute couture wasn’t really my thing, so I got a job at the East London Advertiser and never really looked back.
In 1975, I joined The Sun and loved its cocky attitude and brash humour.
I did my first royal tour in 1977 and truly found my calling.
You can’t do this job as long as I have without having a fondness and respect for the monarchy.
They’ve had to adapt and change over the decades.
I’ve watched the age of deference pass into the era of instant social-media coverage, where everyone has a camera on their phone.
We have all been so lucky to live through the second Elizabethan age.
Over 70 years, the Queen led by example with quiet dignity whenever this nation’s back has been against the wall.
I was so proud when she presented me with my MBE in 2003.
At the investiture Her Majesty said: “So let’s have our picture taken together.”
Her passing was a traumatic experience for both myself and the country.
The ten days of mourning, with such an outpouring of national emotion, will stay with me forever.
I said my farewells to the Queen from the Abbott’s pew inside Westminster Abbey.
It was an incredibly emotional day for the nation and I was reduced to tears on a couple of occasions.
My journey from Stepney to Buckingham Palace could not have happened without the support of my dear wife Ann.
I’m now 82 and this Christmas I will be heading for Sandringham once more.
I never tire of photographing our Royal Family and I still get a thrill seeing my pictures published.
READ MORE SUN STORIES
Read More on The Sun
That’s the oxygen that keeps me going.
- Adapted from Behind The Crown: My Life Photographing The Royal Family, by Arthur Edwards