I like to be up fairly early in the morning — by 7 at the latest — so that I’ve got a good bit of time to have my porridge and do a bit of housework before throwing on my tunic, cape and hat and getting down to work half an hour or so before the Tower opens, at 9. It’s a great commute — the 35 Yeoman Warders all live inside the Tower, so it’s just a matter of walking across to the office, checking what’s happening that day and going to whichever post I’m manning first. Then there’s a chance to catch up on the previous day’s gossip with the lads and have a wee gas with all the people who come in to work here from outside.

Once the visitors start arriving, it’s about telling the story of the Tower and answering questions. Anything from “Where are the toilets?” to “Was Mary Queen of Scots ever held here?” We rotate around the different posts, so it’ll be an hour of telling the story of hangings at Tower Green, then an hour talking about the Bloody Tower, then on to the next thing. We get tested on the way we tell the story — we can put it in our own words, but we have to include a certain set of facts, and the whole thing takes a good six months to learn.

All the Yeoman Warders are ex-military. We have to have our long-service medals, which mean we’ve done at least 22 years in the forces, and our good-conduct medals too. I was in the army, working on secure telecoms in Northern Ireland and Cyprus, then in the Pay Corps, before coming here. We’re based here at the Tower for security, but 90% of the time we’re visitor-focused. That’s the best bit of the job, meeting people all day. I found history quite boring at school, but sometimes you can get kids really excited about it here — though often they’re more interested in seeing soldiers with guns. The ceremonial guards are stationed here, and they’re regular soldiers, so they’re fully tooled up with rifles and other weapons. They’re here for ceremonial duties, but also to protect the crown jewels and everything else we keep here.

At lunch time we take it in turns for our breaks, and I pop home and have beans on toast or whatever I can sort out. I’ve got a two-bedroom flat up against the outer wall, which is fantastic — I’d lived in barracks most of my life, so when I first arrived I was really enthusiastic about having a kitchen of my own. I couldn’t wait to cook up pots of soup and stews and so on, instead of eating in the mess. But I’ve now realised that I don’t actually like cooking!

The uniform isn’t at all bad to wear. It’s comfortable, though it gets a bit warm in summer and cold in winter. But the best thing is that the pockets are huge. I keep tons of stuff in mine — lip gloss, diary, pen, notebook, a hanky, a camera. It wasn’t too much of a problem to adapt the men’s uniform for me — they’re all individually tailored anyway. As a little feminine touch I chose pink braces — not that you’d see them.

I suppose most people get a bit of hassle when they start a new job, but I don’t think I got too much extra for being a woman. At the beginning there were a few puffed chests and a bit of huffing and blowing from some of the blokes, but now I’ve been here a while and got to know them, they’ve adapted to it. It had occurred to me years ago that this might be a fun job, but I’d never thought about it seriously because I thought it was closed to women. But then I saw an ad saying it wasn’t just a job for the boys, so I applied. Being the first woman isn’t something I tend to think about too much, but I’ve had little girls telling me that seeing me, a woman Beefeater, makes them think they can achieve anything they like, which reminds me to take it seriously. And I do take a lot of pride in the job. I’m very much a royalist, so it’s great to look after a royal palace.

When the Tower closes for the evening, I might head back to the flat and have a bite of dinner, or I might head out. Lots of the Beefeaters and their families are quite sociable, so we often go for a pizza or a curry. If I’m at home I tend to be busy — learning the story of the Tower or reading. I love history books, particularly if they relate to the Tower, and I do quite a lot of internet research. If someone asks me a question I can’t answer during the day, I’ll take a contact address so I can find out and let them know — it makes me pick up little extra bits of knowledge, as well as maybe making their day.

Later on, at 10pm, all the Yeoman Warders who are around will take part in the Ceremony of the Keys, the traditional locking of the Tower’s gates with the Queen’s keys, which has taken place on the same piece of ground for more than 500 years. In fact, these days we can still get in and our visitors can get out until 12pm — but after that the Tower’s shut, and the only way you’ll be let in or out is if your name is in the late book.

In practice you’d probably be let in if you forgot to sign the book, but you’d get such a roasting it’s not worth it.

I’m usually quite early to bed — around 10.30 or 11. I’ve heard quite a few stories from people living here about sightings of ghosts, particularly the princes in the Tower.

I won’t believe it until I see it myself, and I’ve not seen it yet. But it’s great to be part of something so ancient. I feel about two inches taller every time I think about it.

By Katharine Hibbert. Portrait by Georgie Scott

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