Mrs Tyler, a twinkly, engaging 66-year-old grandmother, is more than willing to laugh at herself. “It’s a mad house, I know,” she says, talking nineteen to the dozen over the sound of her hairdryer (a photographer is en route). “And some people say I’m obsessed. To which I say, 'What about football fans?’ The only downside is all the dusting.”
Her hobby began at a Brownies event 32 years ago, when she picked up a glass dish depicting the Queen’s head for 2.5p. During a 20-year career working for the Down’s Syndrome Association she would often nip out to a stall in Covent Garden and buy Royal memorabilia. The engagement of Prince Charles and Princess Diana provided a catalyst for more frenzied collecting (“It has been a fascinating few decades for the Royals”), while her four children growing up provided more display space at home.
“My family are very supportive,” she says, “even if they do joke that I have more pictures of the Royals on the walls than of them.”
Her elder son, Andrew (“named after Prince Andrew, of course”), who has moved to America, often sends people over to stay in her makeshift Bed and Breakfast. The Japanese are particularly keen visitors. “We stay up half the night talking about the Royals and watching videos,” she says.
Her younger son, Mark, once spotted a rare photograph of Charles and Diana while doing a teenage milk round. He spent £15 – a week’s wages – to buy it for his mother.
Although the majority of the collection has been bought by Mrs Tyler herself, her growing notoriety has led to more and more people passing off their unwanted memorabilia. Boxes often turn up unannounced on the doorstep. One woman, who was downsizing after being widowed, came round with a trailer (“A lot of people buy stuff and don’t know what to do with it”).
Regardless, she’s never given anything away (although she did once lend four boxes of memorabilia to Kensington Palace for an exhibition), would never sell anything (“I’d be broken-hearted and would only start collecting it again”) and continues to collect only in person (“My children are keen for me to get a computer, but I know I’d just spend my whole time on eBay”).
Mrs Tyler’s hoarding has made her something of a celebrity, featured in media outlets everywhere from Hong Kong to Germany (it was a German television crew which caused the only breakage in her huge collection – a Fergie egg cup). Neither fame nor fortune, however, are her real motivation. Just fandom, pure and simple.
“I’m always worried I’m going to burst into tears whenever I see the Queen,” she says, whom she first saw aged 10 when the young Monarch was driven through her village in rural Herefordshire. “I’m so in awe of her. She’s always there for us. If anything really bad happened in this country, I know we’d all flock down to Buckingham Palace.”
As an adult Mrs Tyler has met the Queen three times: in Hyde Park at the opening of the Diana Memorial Fountain; in Harrow when she was unveiling a plaque for something or other; and in Windsor on her 80th birthday, when she surprised her with a birthday cake. “She’s probably sick of the sight of me,” she jokes.
She also regularly greeted the Queen Mother on her birthday with flowers outside Clarence House (“I would have loved her to be my grandmother”), on one occasion also bumping into Prince Andrew (“naughty, just like a boy should be”). Prince Charles (“not entirely suited to marriage”) she’s met at the Sandringham Flower Show, while Diana (“they called me her number one fan”) she met six weeks before her death when she came to open a children’s wing at a local hospital. Mrs Tyler was wearing a rosette bearing a picture of Diana. “Oh, you have got it bad,” said the princess, throwing back her head and laughing.
Mrs Tyler still meets up every year, on August 31, the date of Diana’s death, with a group of friends outside Kensington Palace to share memories and poems. Camilla she’s not quite so keen on, but she thinks she’s good for Charles.
Unsurprisingly, she is “over the moon” and “up with the fairies” over Prince William’s engagement to Kate Middleton (“such a nice girl and such silly sniping about her background”). A table in the sitting room is already crammed with hastily written biographies of the couple, copies of Tatler and a framed brochure for Party Pieces, Kate Middleton’s parents’ company.
She is delighted that the VAT increase has been waived for Royal memorabilia. “The Queen has her ear to the ground and she knows that people are struggling.” She breaks off and laughs. “Of course, I’d buy it anyway.”
There’s certainly no snob factor when it comes to Mrs Tyler’s collecting. She’s just read about a shop in trendy Hoxton manufacturing plates with the message: “Thanks for the free day off” and is eager to get her hands on one. She’s also pleased with the Palace’s u-turn earlier this week on allowing the couple’s image on tea-towels.
Her only real concern is how she’s going to fit in all the extra memorabilia after the council turned down her planning application for a William and Kate conservatory (“I wanted to be ready”) to complement the Diana room. “If I won the lottery, I’d be straight round to the next-door neighbours with a cheque,” she says.
And the wedding day itself? “I hope to be as near to the Abbey as possible,” she says. “I’m getting a bit old for camping, but I suppose I’ll have to.”
Given that she appears to be responsible for the lion share of the estimated £44 million spent on Royal wedding memorabilia, surely someone could save her a seat? And at least they’ll know where to bring their unwanted Wills 'n’ Kate tea-towel on April 30. 
