Reflection on attending the Queen's Lying in State

So near - yet three hours more to go as the crowds are led through zig zag barriers. Image: ICN/JS

Judy Dixey writes: Left home 9.15am today, arrived at the end of the queue 10am, returned home 6.30pm.

What a day! I'm just back, exhausted, from six and a half hours walking/stopping/queueing and finally snaking through roped-off lines through Victoria Tower Gardens. Those last couple of hours in that snake were the killer, but we made it.

Some impressions:

First, the culmination of it, arriving in Westminster Hall; a few steps in the courtyard, and up the stairs: suddenly you are in the presence of magnificence. It is awe-inspiring, jaw-dropping. Noone speaks, the place is still and silent apart from the slow-moving double lines of people, each in his or her own contemplative world, as we slowly descend the pale-carpeted steps, staring in amazement at the motionless guards, flanking the catafalque. The crown on a purple cushion looks surprisingly small; the cloth of gold, scarlet, blue over the coffin gleams, the Yeomen of the Guard and the Welsh Guards mounting guard, heads bowed, halberds and weapons upended. Oh boy.

It is the end, the whole purpose, of the day, so it will take some time to "process" the experience.

Before we could do that, we had to take our 73 year-old friend, met in the queue and from out of town, and inexperienced in London transport, to an easy route to her train. She needed to get back in time to give her cat its heart medication tomorrow morning; would she make the train? Fingers crossed. She'd been travelling from before 6am. Then a sit down with a snack and a drink and now home.

Impressions of the day:

So many helpers in hi-vis jackets of various hues; blue for DCMS or Civil Service volunteers; most of the rest in yellow; groups from Scouts, security companies, Red Cross, clergy identified by their collars and FAITH TEAM on the back, ready to talk to people in distress, Samaritans. Sheep-like, we obeyed orders. How far now? How long? Did we believe it as we crossed Lambeth Bridge and seemed to be within touching distance and were told another two hours… yes, and some…

Sudden rushes, when we struggled to keep up. Then a slowing and a stop - for when we got our wrist bands (near the Anchor pub); or when we came down the steps off Westminster Bridge, and there was need to ensure no one tripped down if part of a moving crowd. Held back for safety reasons. Those wrist bands - I'm still wearing mine - crucial for being allowed along the route, and such a memory..

Portaloos a-plenty; some already disgusting, but helpers there to flush and clean, if notified. Paul behind us said it was thanks to him there were so many - a civil servant from DCMS, he'd been involved with the financing of sufficient Portaloos on the route. Sadly we lost him and his wife at a Portaloo stop; there was a sudden rush forward, and they didn't push through to rejoin us. We met in Westminster tube station at the end, to mutual delight, to shake hands and thank for the company en route.

The COVID Memorial wall - thousands of hearts, some with no names, all different sizes, each in memory of those who died from the pandemic; a staggering sight. And staff from St Thomas', some in scrubs, sitting on the wall having their lunch. They do this often - as they sit looking at the stunning view of the neo-gothic splendour of the Houses of Parliament.

Julia, our friend from out of town, sharing her Quavers, her sandwiches, her biscuits, her drink, with anyone who needed sustenance. A box of melting chocolate biscuits on a ledge, with the notice "for you in the queue - help yourselves".

Press in their tens and hundreds throughout; we were interviewed by '10' - a company from Florida. Who knows what of that will go out? We spotted Huw Edwards to people's delight, but he was the only "celebrity" broadcaster we recognised. So many cameras everywhere.

People from out of town eager to take photos of the sights along the Thames; we are so lucky to have the walkway, almost the whole route, with great London views all along. A bonus from a historical day.

Why do it? Just to say "I was there"? No. You don't walk that queue just for that. But why? Yes, to be part of history. Our little gang exchanged tears and hugs at the end; and agreed it was to say "Thank you and God bless you" and to mark a day/time of transition, of change. When someone dies, the world stops for those close to the departed; with our Queen's death, though few of us knew her, it IS a time for taking stock and marking that with ritual, with ceremony, with endurance and exhaustion, with a sharing of moving experiences and profound emotions.

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Judy Dixey is a parishioner at Our Lady Help of Christians Catholic Church, Kentish Town. She is a LibDem councillor with Camden Council.