You would
expect the man who married the Queen’s sister Princess Margaret to be buried in
family tomb festooned with heavy decoration. However Lord Snowdon lies under
unmarked soil. He’s just inside the walls of a redundant 13-th century church near
Caernarfon. It’s unreachable by car. The closest I could get to it on wheels
was on a minor coastal road in Llanfaglan and the
views were enough to make me stay for the night.
Before making myself a vegetable burger for supper I walked across a
field to reach the churchyard but Anthony Armstrong-Jones’s presence was not
remotely evident (he preferred to be called Tony.) Two couples who were walking up and down the
headstones asked if I knew where he was buried. “Surely his children would want
something to visit,” one woman said. Half an hour later I returned to the motorhome
a little disappointed. The views across the bay were so inspiring I thought I’d
have a shower, settled in for the night and then watch the stars through my
binoculars. With little water I joined some cows in a field and lugged 40+
litres back and pumped it into the tank (it was so dark I couldn’t tell if it
was clear.) With hardly power it was a quiet evening. Once the power had
drained from my laptop I had no means of entertainment except my imagination
and books. Mountain Rescue is across the bay and a helicopter went up at 10pm
and headed to the heights of Snowdonia.
The next day I woke at 7am and thought I had the bay to myself but a
man was on the beach with red buckets. I’m curious and went out to chat to him.
He was collecting winkles and got £40 per bag from a man who exported them to
Spain. After breakfast I got chatting to a man walking. This Welsh-speaking
local chap saved the day and led me to Lord Snowdon’s unmarked grave in the
churchyard. On the outer edges are two white sticks and Tony and his dad lie
here. Tony’s grave had a bunch of withered flowers lay on it. The coffin had
been brought up to the church by Land Rover and the private affair was attended
by a few mourners. There had been a service inside the old church. Somehow I
couldn’t see the Queen sat on those ancient pews. She always kept good
relations with Tony despite the slightly volcanic marriage to her sister.
I suppose nobody would know who he was had he not married into royalty
but he got in their right at the top. I’ve got books on him and he led an
active colourful life as a photographer, his bohemian life being an attraction
to Margaret whose life was stiff and stuffy. They became engaged in February
1960 and three months later was the first televised royal wedding. Bored
witless with the formal life of a royal Tony became one of Britain's top
photographers during the sixties. The marriage lasted for eighteen years before
they divorced in 1978 having produced a boy and girl. He married again (didn’t work out) and it
emerged that Tony’s snake had been out of the bag and had a few misadventures
while he’d been courting Princess Margaret. He died at his home in London in 2017
aged 86.
I did a hearty salute before leaving the grave; the polio-ridden chap
had always kept himself busy until the end, working as a photographer, making
documentary films for the CBS news program "60 Minutes", designing
the aviary at the London Zoo and putting together a design for an electric
wheelchair. When a hiker appeared in the churchyard and asked where Lord
Snowdon’s grave was I said I didn’t know. I returned to the motorhome and as
the bay seemed deserted I had a plop in a Morrisons
bag outside saying “Sorry Tony” as he was only a hundred metres away (I don’t
use the toilet.)
___________________________________________________
I parked up on a minor coastal road
overloading the bay Tony loved…
How odd that Tony would be buried in
a 13-th century church…
Looking…looking…not sign of Tony
though…
I found a skull and crossbones grave
(normally warning “Do not Open!” as someone died of a typhoid, malaria, etc.)
I couldn’t find Tony’s grave but I
read up on his colourful life in the motorhome…
I filled up with water from a stream
so I could have a hot shower…
Only faded flowers…
He’s buried next to his dad…
He’s buried as close to the bay as
you can get…