I sit, glued to the tv (like half of Britain, I suspect) throughout the afternoon - as news reporters change into black attire and their mood becomes more sombre, it dawns on me that this is very big news. British doctors do not give announcements as to the monarch’s health unless the situation is serious and when her children and grandchildren are shown scrambling to catch an urgent flight to Balmoral, her Scottish residence, I realise just how grave her condition must be.
At 6.32 pm, the news is announced by the BBC, who have already suspended all regular programming. I sit, staring at the screen, transfixed. Like many Brits, I know full well that there’s been a CIvil Service operation in place for some years now, these constituting detailed plans following her death. But now it’s actually being announced, I’m still struggling to get my head around it.
“The Queen died peacefully at Balmoral this afternoon.”
“London Bridge is Down.” Yes, the only monarch most of us have ever known is gone. And I realise that, just as with my father, I am not prepared for this moment.
It’s important to point out, at this point, that I am not a fanatical monarchist. Nor am I a diehard Republican either. I have serious misgivings about an ideology that proclaims an individual having divine right to rule. I am the kind of person that rails against hereditary privilege and class distinctions. I lean far more towards the left than the right, to social equality than the invisible hand of the free market…I believe in breaking down barriers, not raising them.
But this feels very different. This feels ‘personal’ and - in the days that follow - I will learn that millions of people around the country (and the world) feel as I do - that we really did like the Queen, admire the Queen, and have great respect for the Queen. And, the fact is, for almost every one of us we can remember no-one else, ‘leading the way’.
The Queen’s Coronation: photograph by Cecil Beaton
Even my father, a few months before he died, was chatting to me at the time of the Platinum Jubilee and recounted to me the story of how, at the age of 11, he and his schoolfriend were taken by teachers to the streets, to watch the Coronation.
Then he was given a flag by the teacher and stood in the street, waving it wildly, as the Queen’s golden coach drove past him and his schoolfriends, in her Parade around London.
Britain has gone through a great deal in recent years - the turmoil of Brexit, the revolving door of Prime Ministers, an increasingly unstable economic outlook.
It is fair to say that people feel the ground is moving quite rapidly under their feet. But in all of this we had a constant.
Elizabeth II.
The fact is that the most famous woman in the world (a brand bigger than Nike or Coca Cola), instantly recognisable with her smile and trademark handbag, diplomatic, discerning and also dazzling, is gone. And, as I sit staring at the tv, throughout the evening, listening to journalists, politicians and celebrities recounting their thoughts, it dawns on me that I’m going to miss her more than I thought.
The Queen. Image by Jane Brown, February 2006
One thing is clear - this is going to dominate the British, and world news, in the days that follow. And the fact that I’m sitting in London, waiting for my father’s funeral, means I’m going to be at the epicentre of everything. The world’s eyes are going to be on this city, until after she has laid to rest. This will only happen after ten days of national mourning (and the actual day she died won’t be counted, since the news was announced only in the evening).
It’s going to be a long ten days.