Servants carry his personal salt—and his own martinis

OVER the years, even Charles’s close friends have had to adapt to his finicky ways.

When he went to stay with them for a weekend, he often brought his own chef, even if they had kitchen staff of their own.

At formal banquets, he typically ate a specially-prepared meal, complete with his own condiments. Spotting a small vermeil (silver that is gold-plated) bowl by his place at a Windsor Castle dinner, a woman seated next to him asked: ‘Sir, what is that?’

‘Oh, that’s my salt,’ he replied ingenuously. ‘My people take such good care of me. They always bring my salt.’

His long-suffering staff have had to learn all his exacting requirements.

In the Eighties, when Charles was still hunting, he’d start the day with a Spartan breakfast of herb bread and tea flavoured with honey. If he were travelling far, the chef would prepare a boxed lunch of a salad roll, fruit, oatmeal biscuits, apple juice and a ‘refresher’ — a concoction of lemon juice and zest, water, sugar and Epsom salts.

He usually returned to Highgrove well after dark, sometimes with friends in tow, for whisky and boiled eggs.

By his housekeeper’s account, Charles required his chef to cook his eggs for three minutes. As a result, the chef boiled several batches and threw away those that didn’t meet the exact standard of softness demanded.

For breakfast, Charles liked a cup of tea, a handful of specially- mixed organic wheatgerm and cereal grains, an assortment of honey and preserves on a silver tray, and a few pieces of peeled and cut organic fruit.

This kept him going through most of the day. ‘I can’t function if I have lunch,’ he once said. ‘I don’t need it.’

Tea-time was a slice of Welsh fruit cake. And for dinner, his three-minute egg was usually accompanied by a salad and dry martinis mixed by one of his two butlers. Like James Bond, Charles was particular about his martinis. If he was invited to dinner — even by the U.S. ambassador to Britain — his protection officer always carried Charles’s own martini in a special case.

And if the prince spent a night on the Royal Train, he’d want a baked potato as a late supper.

A creature of dyed-inthe-wool habits, he is just as predictable — and eccentric — about his clothes and accessories.

In keeping with his passion for sustainability, he likes to keep his garments and shoes until they’re nearly falling apart. A few of his meticulously tailored suits had visible patches, while his Duchy of Cornwall tie was frayed below the knot.

Old, in the prince’s book, is good. For a long time, he wore a pair of shoes made from reindeer leather that had been discovered by British divers on a ship that sank in 1786. Unlike Diana, who adored shopping for herself, he never darkened the door of his Savile Row tailors, Anderson & Sheppard.

Instead, the firm would send fabric samples to him whenever he needed a new suit, and despatch a man round to take measurements.

The suit would then be cut, using a paper pattern, in the old-fashioned style Charles favoured: doublebreasted with double vents and no pocket flaps (so that he could easily plunge in his hands) and peaked lapels.

He habitually wore his double-breasted jacket completely buttoned rather than with the bottom button fashionably undone — which would have allowed the fabric to fall more naturally and project a relaxed image.

As for finishing touches, he insisted on a silkpatterned handkerchief that would billow from his breast pocket, and custommade Turnbull & Asser shirts with spread collars and French cuffs.

Yet, ironically, even after spending more than £4,000 on an impeccably tailored suit, it often appeared rumpled and creased.