6 minute read
FEATURE
Pic: © Shutterstock
Pulse’s Sammy Jones joins mourners in the capital in the days after Queen Elizabeth II’s death...
It’s raining as I join those filing in a slow but determined manner from Green Park tube station, through the park which leads out to Buckingham Palace.
A few short months ago these streets were crammed with well-wishers as the country celebrated the Platinum Jubilee of this incredible lady. Today the mood is sombre, and people are visibly shocked; How could she be gone? And so quickly.
It matters not that Her Majesty was 96-years-old. People were still unprepared, as one couple tells me later, “We really didn’t see a time when she wouldn’t be here.”
Eighteen hours have passed since that briefest of statements announcing her death changed everything, and at her London home, the collective upset felt by the thousands of people being drawn here is palpable.
The world’s media is descending and camera crews can be found at every turn. Aside from the ‘village’ of press tents reporting to their respective nations, presenters and camera operators roam among the crowds.
The queue to leave flowers at the front of the palace already stretches to the back of the historic residence, and by the time we approach those famous front gates, people are politely being asked to leave their tributes in the surrounding parks as there are simply too many to deal with – they’ve all but run out space.
I spend what feels like an age standing over the blooms that have been left; seas of roses and sunflowers and every coloured flower you care to imagine. And the fragrance of those blossoms is quite something.
Days later, television announcements will say, “Please don’t bring any more Paddington Bear toys or marmalade sandwiches,” which have become a popular tribute following that wonderful Jubilee sketch, because they are numerous in volume, and difficult to remove.
But when I visit, there is just one lone sandwich placed front and centre at the palace. An accompanying note says those by-now familiar words, ‘Thank you Ma’am, for everything.’
I arrived in time to see the King’s Troop Royal Horse Artillery leading out on their way to nearby Hyde Park – at 1pm they delivered a Death Gun Salute. The sound of the cannons firing in the distance shattered the otherwise quiet hum of mourners at the palace.
But while on the ground the streets are bustling, up above, the flag, flying at half-mast, cuts a lone figure against the sky, which is now blue. The rain has stopped.
I am close enough to the action to realise that a Royal visit is imminent and security teams clear the area in anticipation of the arrival.
For the first time as King, Charles arrives at the Palace, accompanied by The Queen Consort, Camilla.
All London pics: Sammy Jones
When they step from their car, the rush to get a glimpse of him, to shake his hand, to record the historic moment is on a par with the response afforded to any current pop star. Everyone wants to savour the moment as our King steps out in public for the first time.
Suddenly, he appears before me as he winds his way towards the sea of floral tributes, stopping briefly to check messages pointed out by Camilla. Behind me, one of the Queen’s former guards shouts ‘God Save The King!’ and another ripple of applause breaks out.
Watching the King and Queen Consort entering the palace on foot is a moment in history, but more than that – and more than all the pomp and circumstance that will follow in the coming days, here stands a man in mourning for the loss of his mother less than a day ago. And yet grief comes second to duty when the eyes of the world are trained on you.
No amount of ‘training’ or preparation can prepare you to deal with that. What a remarkable show of togetherness at a time of indescribable loss.
Later, crowds gather at St Paul’s Cathedral for a special service.
“We had to be here for her,” one lady who has made the journey from South Oxfordshire tells me, “She was always there for us, wasn’t she?”
Days later, I’m among the thousands who have gathered to watch the procession as Queen Elizabeth’s coffin is moved from Buckingham Palace to Westminster Hall for that momentous period of lying-in-state.
By now, we have almost grown used to watching the journey of Her Majesty; from Balmoral, to Edinburgh and then on to London, by road and by air, but this is altogether different.
As the procession moves closer, people’s voices fade away as the haunting music – pieces by Beethoven and Chopin played by The Grenadier Guards – rises in volume with every carefully choreographed footstep of those bringing the sounds, and Her Royal Highness
The scene in Green Park
draws that bit nearer, with the occasional horse hoof clopping as it strikes the road of The Mall.
The same gun carriage moving our departed Monarch has previously been used in a number of royal funerals, including the Queen’s father, King George VI’s in 1952.
Then, just as today, crowds took to the streets to pay their respects, but this time people hold their mobile phones aloft, to capture the moment that her Majesty’s coffin, draped with the Royal Standard and with the Imperial State Crown seated on a velvet cushion, passes by.
And what a moment it is; His Majesty The King is joined by The Princess Royal, The Duke of York, The Earl of Wessex, The Prince of Wales, The Duke of Sussex, Peter Phillips, The Earl of Snowdon, The Duke of Gloucester and Vice Admiral Sir Tim Laurence, all processing behind the coffin.
Seeing Her Majesty’s final departure from Buckingham Palace and experiencing that national feeling of loss is another of those ‘moments in history’ I mentioned earlier and a few minutes that will stay with me forever.
The procession of Queen Elizabeth’s coffin from Buckingham Palace to Westminster Hall
A short walk away, the sea of blooms that have carpeted Green Park continue to swell in number. The flowers, messages, unique tributes, gifts, photographs and artworks and trinkets placed among the petals are staggering in size and overwhelming in sentiment. Close by, a teenage girl sobs on her mother’s shoulder, but she is far from alone.
Queen Elizabeth II really was a constant in an ever-changing world, even if we never really appreciated it while she was here.
Eventually leaving the park behind us, London bustles with life as always, but with a very present and clear ache – and every newspaper, shop window and billboard laments her death.
‘Grief is the price we pay for love,’ Her Majesty famously said, and nowhere is that grief more evident than in London, which is mourning its loss very publicly.
We have passed from the second Elizabethan age and entered the Carolean era, but Queen Elizabeth II will continue to reign in people’s hearts.
