It was around midnight and most or Windsor Castle were asleep. Just a few armed police and honoured guests wandered the grounds. Some paced straight, well trodden paths. The others zig-zaged.
Whilst a little worse for wear and gallivanting around the darker corners of Windsor Castle, we found an ancient ornate porch way that was now being used for storing dead flowers and their pots.
We pondered momentarily on the Perpendicular Gothic-ness before heading back inside to ponder in the remnants of the honour bar.
The morning after, our group was commended (albeit tongue in cheek) for being the first since records began to drink the St Georges bar dry.
It felt like we had drunk much, much more.
