The dawn had barely broken but London was already stirring, as people from every corner of the country and – indeed – the world came to say farewell to Queen Elizabeth II.
For many of us, the Queen is the only monarch we have ever known and represented a quiet stability throughout all our lives; a constant in a Britain unrecognisable from the day she took the throne in 1952.
It is for that reason that while the public’s response in the 11 days since the Queen’s death has been surprising, it has not been wholly unexpected.
As flowers, cards, children’s drawings and – most surprisingly of all – Paddington Bears piled up outside Buckingham Palace, Windsor Castle and other royal residences, it became clear the nation was deeply unprepared for the inevitable.
It is natural the death of a monarch – especially one who has been part of the fabric this country for 70 years – would illicit a communal grief, however for many it has been a keenly personal loss.
During the period of national mourning, the news cycle was filled with stories of everyday people who met Her Majesty, worked for her and served under her. Their sorrow palpable as they regaled tales of how this one person - whom in many ways became a cultural, historical and mystical figure beyond herself – touched them so personally.
Prior to the Queen’s death, many wondered how the public would react. Would they care? Would the response differ to the deaths of previous monarchs and members of the royal family? Does the monarchy even have a place in the modern world?
Today, as thousands of people lined the streets of London and Windsor, watched on their televisions and followed on social media, it is clear: Britons still have an indescribable, sentimental attachment to our royal family and this monumental passing exemplifies that relationship.
At 6.30am, I made my way from my Covent Garden hotel - a last minute booking after I received news I was to be one of just a few local journalists heading to the capital to cover the funeral - and boarded a far busier than usual Piccadilly Line.
Looking around at the tube’s passengers, it was easy to tell their intentions for the day; Paddington Bear rucksacks on children’s backs, professional level cameras in hand and flags tucked around shoulders and poking out of pockets.
The atmosphere in the capital was not necessarily solemn but quiet and reflective. There was an acute feeling of awareness that the day ahead would be one for the historic books. A state funeral for which routines, marches and music could be repeated but the emotional resonance of the public would never be quite the same.
Just before 7am, the city’s major parks were already bustling with streams of people making their way towards The Mall and Buckingham Palace, aiming to get a spot for a procession which would not start for another four hours.
I was positioned at the QEII media centre directly across from Westminster Abbey, a location that would prove to be one of the best viewpoints of this momentous day.
There was a great expectancy from all the journalists in the media stand whilst a sea of black mourners made their way into the Abbey. As specially designated coaches, minibuses and cars off-loaded the great and good of the realm and international community, I was struck by the sheer magnitude of what I was witnessing.
In one, singular morning I was faced with the presence of dignitaries, international leaders and, of course, the royal family themselves. People who, much like the Queen herself, are mythologised and seem otherworldly on television screens talking to crowds in far flung places. Yet, here I was, a working-class girl from Wolverhampton, front and centre of the century’s most important event, experiencing the day alongside them.
Her Majesty’s coffin arrived from the Palace of Westminster in an glorious procession of colour, music and effortless uniformity; all the factors that make our pomp and ceremony unmatched on the global stage.
While we remained outside the Abbey, live streaming the service taking place inside on our phones, the sound of music could be faintly heard through the Abbey’s walls – a moment of quiet resonance I will not soon forget.
Following the funeral, as the procession set off for Wellington Arch at Hyde Park Corner and the sound of beating drums, footsteps and bagpipes faded into the distance, the air which hung in Westminster was poignant.
Did we truly realise what we had just witnessed first-hand?
It is often said journalists write the first draft of history and here we were, taking notes for that draft which will become cuttings in archives, photographs in museums and moments etched into national memory.
Despite not being here in person, the Queen continues to leave her mark on the country.
On this day, with its tremendous significance for our shared history and future, she once more connected with the public collectively and individually. As thousands of people lined the streets, they each sought their own, final moment with Her Majesty. Perhaps in grief, perhaps in thanks, perhaps in hope, or, perhaps in some other intangible feeling we cannot put into words.
I am honoured to have borne witness to this day, watching on as we march into a new era. As a journalist it is perhaps the biggest story of my career, as a member of the British public it is the biggest societal and cultural change I will see in my lifetime.
It is difficult to take in the true gravity of those two statements and the legacy of this day. But time, as it always does, will tell.
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This story was written by Sophie Perry. She joined the team in 2021 as a digital reporter.
You can get in touch with her by emailing: sophie.perry@newsquest.co.uk
Follow her on Twitter @itssophieperry
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