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Highgrove House, nestled among Gloucestershire’s gentle hills, has always appeared to be the very essence of English charm. For nearly half a century, this estate has served as King Charles’s personal retreat — a place where he can escape official duties and immerse himself in the natural world he treasures. Visitors are drawn to its renowned organic gardens, winding paths, wildflower meadows, and carefully curated borders. More than forty thousand people walk through Highgrove each year, believing they are witnessing a pure expression of the King’s environmental ideals. And indeed, they see exactly what they are meant to see.
But in the summer of 2025, a formal investigation peeled back the layers of this pastoral perfection. What emerged was a far more troubling story — one that challenged the public image of a monarch known for his passion for sustainability. Beneath the immaculate lawns and thriving blooms, Highgrove was hiding a workplace in turmoil.
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Concerns first arose within The King’s Foundation, the charity overseeing Highgrove’s operations. Their internal records showed an alarming trend: of the twelve full-time gardeners employed in 2022, eleven had resigned in just three years. Both head gardeners left, followed by the deputy head gardener — a level of turnover unheard of in such prestigious horticultural roles. Clearly, something was deeply wrong.
To uncover the cause, the foundation hired WorkNest, an independent HR consultancy, and tasked them with interviewing past and present employees, reviewing management structures, and identifying why positions many horticulturists dream of were suddenly impossible to keep.
The findings dismantled the myth of Highgrove as a serene, harmonious sanctuary. Instead, the consultants discovered a demanding workplace where relentless expectations collided with insufficient staffing, inadequate pay, and intense scrutiny from the King himself. One phrase repeated throughout the interviews captured the situation perfectly: overwhelmed and underpaid.
Gardeners described exhausting days and impossible workloads, driven by a pressure to meet standards that simply could not be achieved with the resources provided. Pay was shockingly low for such skilled roles — as of March 2022, three gardeners were paid £11.98 per hour, the legal minimum, while others earned only slightly more. These were professionals with years of training, yet their compensation matched entry-level retail roles rather than elite horticultural positions.
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Former senior gardener Jack Stokes, who spent 20 years shaping Highgrove’s landscape, confirmed that burnout, not lack of commitment, drove him away. Operational changes and escalating demands made the job unsustainable. Others echoed his experience. One long-serving gardener resigned due to sheer exhaustion. Another lost the King’s trust after failing to recognize a specific flower variety — prompting Charles to reportedly say, “Do not put that man in front of me again.” Mistakes, no matter how small, were treated as personal affronts.
A consistent pattern emerged: the King’s intense personal involvement was both the estate’s greatest strength and its deepest flaw. Charles toured the gardens frequently, examining every detail and issuing handwritten notes in bold red ink. These messages were often emotional, highly specific, and sometimes focused on trivial matters — a single weed by the swimming pool, grammatical errors in staff memos, or a flower bed blooming in an unexpected shade. Staff knew that whatever His Majesty noticed during these inspections would become their next urgent assignment.
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In the middle of this stood Constantine “Costa” Inime, Highgrove’s executive director and one of Charles’s closest advisers. Many gardeners described him as the enforcer of the King’s expectations, often prioritizing royal wishes over horticultural reality. If Charles wanted a plant moved — even if it risked killing it — that order would be carried out. Gardeners felt their expertise was routinely dismissed, pushing them into tasks that defied fundamental horticultural principles.
These pressures carried real physical consequences. With chronic understaffing and vast grounds to maintain — from the kitchen garden to the arboretum — injuries and exhaustion became common. Staff were told not to raise concerns about shortages and to “find a way” regardless of feasibility.
Morale deteriorated further when, following the start of the war in Ukraine, the King reportedly suggested using Ukrainian refugees or elderly volunteers to ease the workload. To staff already struggling, the idea seemed out of touch and highlighted how little their needs were being understood.
As head gardeners came and went, the instability deepened. The role demanded satisfying the King’s extremely high standards while protecting staff wellbeing — a balance many declared impossible. Those who tried to advocate for change were gradually sidelined. Fear replaced communication. Gardeners learned to stay silent, sacrificing honesty for survival.
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The breaking point came when it became clear that conditions would not improve. Staff described anxiety, sleepless nights, and constant physical pain from the workload. The dread of the King’s inspections became a defining part of their workdays. Many sought medical help for stress-related symptoms.
Despite internal complaints, promised improvements never materialized. Small pay bumps and vague assurances did nothing to alleviate overwhelming responsibilities. Eventually, one resignation led to another, and Highgrove’s polished beauty began to rely on temporary hires and exhausted remaining staff.
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