At the beginning of September, I started off writing a very positive post about the wonderful summer we’ve had here in the UK: the excursions, the subjects learned and the wonderful friendships made. Then, sadly, on September 8th, the Queen died. Our nation ground to a halt, and has been in a state of mourning for the last 12 days. Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II was our rock, the nation’s granny, during wars, pandemics, strikes, she was always there. Even though we all knew whe was nearing the end of her life, it still came as a big shock. She lived through 15 prime ministers, starting with the great Sir Winston Churchill, all the way through to Liz Truss, swearing her in two days before her death, at the grand old age of 96.
Since her passing, we have all been gripped by the pomp and ceremony that we British are so good at. We have watched King Charles III and the Queen’s consort, Camilla, walking behind the coffin, meeting dignitaries, the leaders of Wales, Scotland and Northern Ireland, all with incredible dignity. We have seen the beautifully well-behaved children Prince George and Princess Charlotte following their parents, the Prince and Princess of Wales, doing walkabouts, talking to people and looking at floral tributes left at the palace gates. Prince Louis was left at home. Then, of course, there was ‘the Queue’ which by the end of the first day had its own hashtag on social media. As the Queen’s coffin lay in state at the Palace of Westminster, being guarded night and day by members of the armed forces, the Queen’s own children, her grandchildren, and members of parliament, people filed past to pay their last respects. You could tune in to the BBC at any time of night and watch people walking along the Thames, some wrapped in blankets as the nights got colder, pale faced and tired, making friends along the way. The queue was ten miles long and could take up to fourteen hours but nonetheless, people went and queued. There were ordinary people, celebrities, ex prime ministers, football stars all wanting to say goodbye to the Queen for the very last time. The Queue closed at 6.30 am yesterday morning when the last person was ushered out and Black Rod closed the door to the public.
Yesterday billions of people all over the world tuned in to watch the state funeral. It was faultless. Her Majesty’s coffin surmounted by The Imperial State Crown, The Orb and The Sceptre and borne by the Bearer Party was taken to Westminster Abbey for the funeral service. The Queen herself had chosen the music, the hymns and the order of service. The Abbey was filled with the Royal family, world leaders, royalty and politicians from far-off lands, and a few celebrities. People lined the streets, watching on screens in parks, churches and cinemas, or simply gathered at home. The country was in a collective grief, mourning not only the Queen’s passing, but also taking in the grief of the last few terrible years, when many people had been unable to attend family funerals. Unusually for a bank holiday, shops and businesses were closed as a mark of respect to our monarch, but also realising that everybody wanted to participate in some way in this monumental event.
After the funeral at Westminster Abbey, Her Majesty’s coffin traveled in procession along the Mall to the Wellington Arch at Hyde Park Corner in Central London. Thousands of people stood by and watched, as King Charles and his siblings marched behind her, flanked by members of the Royal Navy and the armed forces in all their finery. The Bearer Party then slid the Queen’s coffin into a waiting hearse where the long ride to Windsor Castle began. Thousands of mourners waited at the barriers to catch a glimpse of the procession. People were silent as they went past, some threw flowers into the road. In Windsor, some keen well-wishers had set up camp the night before to guarantee their spot near The Long Walk; people came out in their thousands with chairs and picnics to spend the day, phones held high to capture the event, some held up their children to see the pageantry, a memory to be treasured forever. The Queen’s beloved pony Emma and her corgis were brought out to watch and to say a final farewell. The Queen was then taken into St. George VI Memorial Chapel in the grounds of Windsor Castle where around 800 mourners, including senior royals and members of the Queen’s Household and Windsor estate staff, attended a committal ceremony. King Charles took the same seat his mother had, when she had sat so alone and sad for the Duke of Edinburgh’s funeral during the pandemic. Before the final hymn, the Imperial State Crown, the orb and the sceptre were removed from the Queen’s coffin, and placed on the altar. At the end of the final hymn, the King placed a small flag – the Queen’s company camp colour of the Grenadier Guards – on the coffin. The coffin was slowly lowered into the Royal Vault, before the Queen’s piper played a lament as he walked away, in a symbolic gesture. And that was it, she was gone, forever.
It has been a strange few days here in Britain. I will write about the summer soon, just not today. I will leave the photo of students outside Buckingham Palace which I had intended to use for my blog about the summer though!
