FAREWELL TO HER MAJESTY
Yesterday’s (Sunday’s) newsletter did not appear as I was in The Queue for the Queen’s Lying in State. I dashed off an account for Facebook which that organisation removed on the grounds that ‘it goes against our community standards’. What that can mean I do not know, unless Facebook has been taken over by rabid republicans. Anyhow, here is what I wrote, and you can judge for yourselves!
(I don’t know who took the above photograph about 0720 on Sunday morning, about 9 hours into the queue, but Imogen and I are on the left)
Back from the wonderful Hebridean Sky lecture tour and bear-leading the post tour extension on Saturday. Home, shower, change into dark suit medals and bowler hat, Imogen ditto less bowler and off to London to view the Lying in State of Her Majesty. We arrived at the end of the queue at 2219 hrs and were issued with our numbered wrist bands, and just after 1030 hrs on Sunday morning we entered Westminster Hall after a twelve-hour tramp through parts of London we had never seen (we had been told the time would be 13 ½ hours so we were lucky). The distance from start to finish is only 5 ½ miles but we covered 12 miles, due to considerable zig zags and chicanes to accommodate the numbers, but the queue moved slowly with regular stops at bottlenecks and to check wristbands. The organisation of the queue was first class. Marshals all along the route, lots of water stations, purveyors of tea and coffee, lavatories and first aid tents. We did not partake of any, but they were there for the weak of bladder and will. Fortunately there was no rain and the only rather chilly period was when the queue was halted for an hour and twenty minutes for cleaning of the hall and rehearsals: fair enough, it was our bad luck to be by the river with nowhere to get out of the wind. Despite the many thousands of people in the queue it was remarkably good humoured, with people chatting to complete strangers and much sharing of sandwiches and chocolate. A number of people approached Imogen and me to say how smartly we were dressed, and here is my only criticism: most participants wore scruff order with very few suits and even fewer ties, which we felt was inappropriate for the occasion, but at least they were there, and they were mainly the young, which bodes well for the future. I was told I was the oldest taking part that night (I’m sure I wasn’t) but then youngsters think anyone over 40 is in the first throes of senile dementia. I was very tempted to agree with one questioner (adult) who thought my MBE was the Victoria Cross, but I resisted and told her the truth, explaining that the army frequently had to decide between preferment or court martial. It was good to see a number of young soldiers from 2 RGR helping in various capacities. They had no idea who I was but recognised my regimental tie, and I think they appreciated a few words in Nepali telling them they were doing a good job. Once one reached the environs of Westminster Hall there was a rigorous security check, and here one jobsworth made Imogen remove her Union Flag scarf she was wearing under her coat on the grounds that flags weren’t allowed. Her inquiry as to whether the Union Flag was no longer that of the UK received the usual ‘not my decision’. It was noted however that union jack hair ribbons and bow ties were acceptable. Once in the Hall the mood changed from cheerful stoicism to a hushed reverence. Not a sound could be heard as people filed past bowing or genuflecting to the coffin on the catafalque. It was a most impressive layout, with officers of the Household Division and Yeomen of the Guard at the four corners and, somewhat incongruously but meaningful nevertheless, two members of the Honourable Corps of Gentlemen at arms or the Royal Company of Archers at the foot. Her Majesty’s coffin was draped with the royal standard with the Imperial State Crown on a purple velvet cushion, and the orb and sceptre upon it. I halted, stood to attention and bowed my head, Imogen curtsied and crossed herself. I swore an oath to Her Majesty in August 1960 as did Imogen in October 1975. We both felt that we had to pay our last respects to a great sovereign. It was a day that we shall always remember.