The queue came as a surprise. When I cycled over Blackfriars Bridge at five o’clock yesterday afternoon and looked down at the path on the south bank of the Thames, there did not appear to be a queue.
I descended the steps next to the Doggett’s Coat and Badge pub and discovered to my astonishment a stream of good-humoured people walking at a brisk pace towards Westminster.
The queue was moving!!! This is contrary to the platonic essence of a British queue, which if it moves at all should proceed at such a glacial pace that it appears to be stationary.
A good-natured refusal to give way to despair should be the dominant emotion, but these people were hopeful they would actually reach their destination. They were moving too fast to be interviewed, especially as I was still encumbered by my bicycle, so I stood by a steward who turned out to be a civil servant who had taken a day off to volunteer for this duty.
“It is a solemn day,” the steward observed, “but people are quite jovial.”
And so they were, for they felt they were doing the right thing. “It’s the last final way we can pay our respects,” the steward said.
“My favourite royal is Her Royal Highness the Princess Royal, Princess Anne,” she went on. “I do have a special place in my heart for the Princess Royal.”
An old gentleman in a pinstriped suit passed us, followed by a mother with young children. Quite a few of the men were wearing black ties. It was a lovely evening. We were in the shade, but the sun shone on the river, which was almost at high water.
“The DCMS have been sublime,” the steward said, not a sentence I have heard before. She herself worked for the Cabinet Office.
“But it has been 30 years in the planning,” she added, in explanation of why things were going so well.
After half an hour, the queue came to a halt. “It’s been a jog,” Ashleigh Cox, 40, from Neath in South Wales said.
“I’m glad we stopped,” he added a few moments later. “I’ve composed myself now.”
Why did he decide to come? “My grandmother, she passed away last year, part of it, it’s for her,” he said. “She was a huge royalist. Nobody could speak if the Queen was on.”
He and his two companions had brought homemade welsh cakes with them to sustain them as they queued, and pinned to his jacket he wore the Prince of Wales’s feathers, made of Welsh gold, given to him by his grandmother.
He is a regular attender at royal events: “I came up for the Jubilee in June, for the Trooping of the Colour. We stood for seven or eight hours. That was very hard going.”
Just behind him in the queue stood Rodrigo Nascimento, who said: “I came to this country 20 years ago from Brazil. This country opened its arms to me and my family. I’m very grateful, and the Queen is the symbol of everything that my family and I were granted.”
John from St Albans, who was standing behind him, said of the Queen: “She was a great asset to this country. She was a wonderful Christian and she shared her faith in the Christmas broadcasts.
“My good friend in the Salvation Army Band, she played carols in front of the Queen and the Duke at Christmas time, and her name’s Alison. She showed me pictures of it.”
Two young women from Bedfordshire who work in health and safety said: “We came today because we love the Queen. We’ve watched it every day. Continuous watching.”
At five past six the queue started moving again, and by fits and starts we made rapid progress towards Waterloo Bridge. I walked for a time with a former soldier who was wearing the decorations he had received for service in Afghanistan and Iraq.
“When you join the forces you swear an oath of allegiance to the Queen,” he said. “At the time it’s just something you do, but this makes it real.”
“I always swore I would be here,” a woman declared. “I was on a business trip in Vietnam, but I changed my plans and I came here. I live in Hong Kong.
“I was here for Diana, here for the Queen Mother. I stood five hours in the pouring rain yesterday.
“People were saying it could be 20 or 30 hours in the queue. I said I don’t care if it’s 300 hours. It’s about respect for the Queen. She served us loyally for 70 years.”
We were by now at Gabriel’s Wharf, with behind us a wonderful view of the dome of St Paul’s, and ahead the setting sun.
Shaista Adnan, a senior housing officer, said she had come “just to be part of this historic moment really. She was a wonderful lady.
“When she actually spoke she said things that were quite profound, that appealed to everyone.
“What she said when we had Covid, that was really very good – we will see each other again, we will meet our family, we will meet again.
“The politicians ran amok. The royal family respected the same rules as we did.”
We were passing the British Film Institute, which on a screen outside was showing some beautiful footage of the Queen as a young woman, and of people sitting the rain waiting for her coronation.
“This is very very big history,” a steward in a yellow jacket who came to this country from Kenya told me. “In our generation we have never seen anything like this.
“Last night, I was walking on the road. It’s amazing the way people love the Queen. People started coming in at three o’clock last night.
“It touches me a lot. The Queen is for everybody, man. Now the Queen is in the hands of the people. Everyone is calm, there’s no pushing around, it’s been very nice.”
The sun set to the right of Charing Cross Station, illuminating the spire of St Martin-in-the-Fields, and the strings of plain white bulbs between the elaborate lamp posts on the edge of the Thames were switched on.
It was indeed very nice. People moved contentedly through the dusk. The queue went forward in a spirit of sweet sadness, marching with hope towards Westminster Hall.