Clive Nicholls
My first royal encounter came at Gatcombe Park, the home of Princess Anne and her husband at the time, Captain Mark Phillips.
I was taking pictures of Mark for an equestrian magazine in their drawing room. In pops Anne, herself one of the best (and bravest) event riders in the world.
“Has he asked if you want a cup of tea?” I’m stuck. If I say “No” I drop Mark in it, or do I say “yes, but I declined”?
Instead all I could manage was to stare back blankly, which told Anne everything she needed to know.
“Oh Mark!” she chided, and I thought that was the end of it. Not a bit of it. The Princess returned
