Don't hate me, I'm a Royalist.

Most little girls want to be princesses at some stage of their young lives. They want to wear the pretty dresses, and dance with their prince charming, and have servants, and carriages and be given dainty glass slippers... but not me. I never wanted to be a princess, but I was convinced that I used to be one. Yes, when my playmates were dreaming about one day being Cinderella, I was daydreaming about my past life as Elizabeth I. Long-live reincarnation!

From the first time I ever heard about the Tudors and Stuarts, I became obsessed with the English monarchy. In later years I sought out books on Henry VIII and his eight wives, and then on his daughter Elizabeth, and then her cousin Mary, Queen of Scots. In senior school I knew by heart the royal succession from the time of the Norman Conquest in 1066 CE, and I even constructed a dolls house (complete with working lights) based on houses of the Victorian era. While my history teachers focused our lessons on Aboriginal heritage, I was nose-deep in all-things British. The two hundred-odd years of Australian colonisation just weren't enough history to get me excited. I wanted stone castles set high above rolling green pastures, with moats and medieval foot-soldiers dressed in armour.

So it's no surprise that on each occasion that I visited London (prior to relocating here back in June), I made a trip to the Tower of London, Buckingham Palace and Westminster Abbey - the three big-cheeses of the English monarchy in the city-proper. Last Saturday, however, was my first trip down south to Windsor Castle, and it did not disappoint.

Windsor Castle dates back to the time of William the Conqueror - who ruled from 1066-1087 - and is the largest inhabited castle in the world, housing just over 150 people, most of whom are servants and grounds-keepers, and then visiting diplomatics. The Queen considers Windsor to be her 'home' and spends most of her weekends there. Interestingly, the current royal house adopted the personal surname of Windsor (after both the town and castle) in 1917, due to the negative German sentiment at the time of the First World War, their previous name being of the House of Wettin, Saxe-Coburg-Gotha.

As far as castles go, Windsor has all the trimmings. Built high on a hill, complete with a moat (now fostering a well-manicured garden), stone walls up to 4-metres thick and its own majestic chapel. Back in 1992 a large portion of the State Apartments were destroyed by fire, while no one was fatally injured, a number of priceless artworks were lost in the blaze that was caused by a halogen light igniting a curtain. After 18-months of restoration, walking through the halls now, you would have no idea that anything had been damaged at all. The rooms are beyond grand. They are filled with the finest of furnishings, and celebrate the years of monarchical rule in Great Britain. A definite must is taking advantage of the free audio tour, as well as making a stop at Queen Mary's Dolls' House, built in the 1920s as a gift for Queen Mary, wife of King George V. It stands over five feet tall and contains miniature works from great artist and craftsmen of the time, complete with electricity and working plumbing! I have to say, it put my little Victorian-wonder to shame...