In the hush of a December evening, when the lights of Windsor Castle glow like distant stars against the darkening sky and the Long Walk lies empty under a blanket of frost, the Prince and Princess of Wales chose something different for Christmas 2025. For the first time since their marriage, William and Catherine spent the holiday not at Sandringham with the King and Queen, not in the formal embrace of palace protocol, but in the modest, red-brick warmth of their family home, Adelaide Cottage, tucked away in the private grounds of Windsor Great Park. No official photos were released. No courtiers hovered. No cameras were invited. Instead, what has slowly leaked out through whispers from staff, neighbors, and those few who passed the cottage gates is a picture of a Christmas that feels almost startlingly ordinary—and deeply human.
Adelaide Cottage, a Regency-era house built in 1831 for Queen Adelaide, is far from the grandeur of Kensington Palace or the sprawling state rooms of Windsor Castle. With its white stucco walls, small leaded windows, and a garden that spills into the park’s ancient oaks, it is cozy rather than palatial. The Wales family moved there in 2022, drawn by its intimacy and its proximity to the children’s school, Lambrook. Inside, the rooms are softly lit by lamps and a modest Christmas tree in the sitting room—nothing like the towering Norway spruce that dominates the castle’s Crimson Drawing Room. This year, the tree is smaller, slightly crooked, and decorated entirely by the children: paper chains, handmade stars, and a collection of mismatched ornaments collected over the years. George, Charlotte, and Louis strung the lights themselves, with Charlotte insisting on extra tinsel “so it looks like snow.” Louis, ever the mischief-maker, crowned the top with a paper crown he’d made at school and declared himself “King of the Christmas Tree.”
The days leading up to Christmas were filled with the kind of simple pleasures that most families take for granted but which, for the Waleses, are rare gifts. Catherine, still recovering from her 2024 cancer diagnosis and treatment, spent mornings in the kitchen baking gingerbread and shortbread with the children. She wore an apron dusted with flour, her hair tied back with a ribbon, and laughed when Louis accidentally dropped an entire tray of cookies on the floor. William, who has taken on more domestic duties during Catherine’s recovery, was spotted in the garden helping George and Charlotte build a snowman—complete with a carrot nose and one of William’s old scarves. Neighbors in the village of Windsor have shared quiet stories: the sound of laughter drifting over the hedge, the sight of William pushing Louis on a swing in the cottage garden, Catherine walking the family’s new cocker spaniel, Orla, along the Long Walk in the early morning mist.
On Christmas Eve, the family attended the traditional carol service at St George’s Chapel. They sat in the nave like any other family—William in a navy suit, Catherine in a deep green velvet coat, the children in their best outfits—singing along to “O Come All Ye Faithful” and “Silent Night.” There was no special seating, no fanfare; they were simply the Waleses, sharing the service with the local community. Afterward, they returned to Adelaide Cottage for a quiet supper of homemade soup, roast chicken, and the gingerbread they’d decorated earlier. Louis insisted on wearing his paper crown all evening, and George read aloud from a book of Christmas stories while Charlotte and Catherine curled up on the sofa with mugs of hot chocolate.
Christmas Day itself was even more private. There was no televised walkabout, no balcony appearance, no official photographs released to the press. The family exchanged gifts in the sitting room—simple, thoughtful presents wrapped in brown paper and tied with string. Catherine gave William a leather-bound notebook for his speeches and a framed drawing of the family done by Charlotte. William gave Catherine a pair of earrings made from recycled silver and a handwritten letter that made her cry. The children received books, board games, and a new set of wooden trains for Louis. The day was spent playing games—Monopoly, Scrabble, and a raucous round of charades that ended with William attempting to mime “The Nutcracker” and collapsing in laughter when no one could guess. Lunch was a roast turkey with all the trimmings, cooked by Catherine with help from the children, followed by Christmas pudding and mince pies. In the afternoon, they walked the dogs in the park, the children racing ahead while William and Catherine strolled hand in hand, talking quietly.
The absence of Meghan and Prince Harry was noticeable but not dramatic. Harry and Meghan spent Christmas in California with their children, Archie and Lilibet, and the two families exchanged video calls on Christmas Day. Harry sent a video message to his father and brother, and William responded with a warm reply. There was no public reconciliation, but there was also no public tension—just the quiet understanding that some wounds take time to heal. Catherine’s cancer journey has softened many hearts, including those of the King and Queen, and the family’s decision to spend Christmas privately at Windsor rather than Sandringham was seen as a sign of healing, not division.
Locals in Windsor have spoken warmly of the family’s presence. A neighbor who lives near Adelaide Cottage told a local reporter: “We saw them walking the dogs on Christmas morning. They looked so happy—just a normal family enjoying the day. It was lovely to see.” Another resident, who spotted William pushing Louis on a swing, said: “He’s a proper dad—laughing, chasing the kids, not worried about looking royal. It made me smile.”
The palace has released only one official photograph from the holiday period: a simple black-and-white image of the family gathered around the tree, taken by Catherine herself. William stands behind the children with his arms around Catherine’s shoulders, all five of them smiling softly, the tree’s lights twinkling in the background. The caption reads: “Wishing you all a peaceful and joyful Christmas from our family to yours.”
In a year that has tested the Wales family in ways few could have imagined—Catherine’s illness, William’s solo duties, the quiet strain of public life—their decision to spend Christmas quietly, privately, and joyfully feels like a quiet act of defiance. Not against the monarchy, but against the relentless scrutiny that has followed them since their engagement. They chose warmth over ceremony, laughter over protocol, and family over formality. And in doing so, they reminded the world that even royalty can choose the simple magic of a Christmas at home—complete with wonky trees, homemade biscuits, and a little boy wearing a paper crown.
For many, it was the most human Christmas the Wales family has ever shared. And for the first time in years, it felt like the kind of Christmas Diana always dreamed of: one where love, not duty, came first.
