She passes her Palace for one final time
THE Queen’s coffin yesterday passed Buckingham Palace on her final journey. For so long her residence in London and at the centre of state occasions and royal hospitality during her record-breaking 70-year reign, the building famous around the world provided one of the most poignant backdrops to her funeral procession.
The King’s Guard turned out in the palace forecourt and gave a royal salute as the coffin, borne on the state gun carriage pulled by Royal Navy personnel, made its way to the hearse which drove it to Windsor.
Buckingham Palace staff, including chefs, stood outside the building before the procession arrived there. As the Queen’s coffin passed them, some curtsied. As the procession came up The Mall from Westminster Abbey, taking the late monarch on her last journey to the Palace, many among the watching crowds were overcome with emotion.
A few yards down from the Queen Victoria Memorial in front of the Palace, two young girls, Milly Rigden, 12, and her sister Lydia, 17, each threw a single red rose from their spot on The Mall as the coffin passed them.
Their mother, 47-year-old Nadia Rigden, a hairdresser, threw a white rose. All three were tearful. Noticing that a policeman on duty standing in front of them and facing the crowd was looking emotional too as the procession neared, Mrs Rigden streamed a live TV feed on her mobile phone and held it up so he could see what was happening too.
Afterwards, Mrs Rigden said: ‘I could see it was getting to him too, so I just wanted to help. I couldn’t just stand there in front of him.’
She was there with her husband and the girls’ father, Wayne Rigden, also 47, a car refinisher, from Whitstable, Kent.
Milly said: ‘It’s a day of mixed emotions. It’s happy because we’re celebrating the Queen’s life but obviously it’s sad because she’s not here any more. She meant a lot to our family.’
Earlier, the hum of friendly chat amid the well-wishers that had pervaded The Mall since the morning dimmed and a hush descended as the funeral service was relayed over speakers to the crowds.
No one joined in singing any of the hymns but instead they maintained a respectful silence, some standing straight-backed while others leant into each other for support, eyes brimming. Some joined in with the national anthem at the end.
Their emotions only deepened as the procession made its way ever nearer. It was lump-in-the-throat time as the massed crowds strained to marvel at the pomp and ceremony passing before them.
The sky had begun to brighten towards the end of the service, warming tired backs and lifting spirits. But nothing could lessen the vast emotional impact of that moment the procession passed by and neared the Palace.
There were gasps among some sections of the crowd when the coffin first came into their view – and spontaneous applause for King Charles and the other royals walking behind it. More applause broke out among the crowd after the coffin had passed Buckingham Palace and the procession headed off up Constitution Hill.
Tom Nuttall, 40, who runs a Land Rover dealership, camped overnight on Sunday on the south side of The Mall – just a few hundred yards from the Palace – with his wife Tamara, also 40, their children, 13year-old Elliott and Isla, 11, and his mother-in-law Sandra Stacey, 61.
Mr Nuttall, from Bristol, said: ‘My wife came last week and queued up to see the Queen’s coffin lying in state, and both the kids are Scouts so they do their duty to the Queen, or King as we have now. Being here is the right thing to do. Does any
‘Proud to be here on this solemn day’
one want to spend hours waiting outdoors? Not really. But it’s one of those things you’ll be able to look back on in years to come and be proud that you did it.’
The three generations of the family came equipped with cool boxes full of sandwiches and soft drinks, sleeping bags and a tent for their night spent sleeping – or trying to – by The Mall.
Those who pitched tents were warned they would have to take them down early in the morning, which they duly did.
The Nuttall family also brought six mobile phone battery packs for their ‘comms’ – and photo-taking – needs. Isla said: ‘I wanted to come to respect the Queen. She was the leader, the patron of the Scouts and we do everything for her. I don’t want to sing the new national anthem, I liked the old one. But I’ll get used to it.’
Mrs Nuttall, who runs an online sales company, said: ‘Charles will be a great King. I think he’s like his mother and he’s been ready to be monarch for a long time.
‘It’s worth sleeping out to be here. This is a once in a lifetime event and it’s definitely worth the wait overnight to be here.’
Her mother Mrs Stacey said: ‘My mother got married in London in the same year as the Queen’s coronation, so the royals were always a big thing for her.
‘I only came back from a holiday in Murcia in Spain on Saturday – I more or less got off the plane and came here.’
Mr Nuttall drove them all to Windsor on Sunday, parked there and they then got the train to London.
He was hoping to be able to get the family back to the town in time to join the hearse’s arrival there, but was not sure if that would be feasible.
Meanwhile, Dave Nott, 59, from High Wycombe, Buckinghamshire, who served ten years in the Royal Regiment of Fusiliers and was a lance corporal, brought his former regiment’s flag with him to The Mall and wore his old beret.
He said: ‘I’m mainly here because of my service to crown and country. I went to view the Queen’s coffin lying in state on Friday and came to The Mall on Sunday morning. I was a survival instructor so sleeping out for a night on Sunday didn’t bother me.’
Mr Nott, who served in Northern Ireland and had other postings in countries including Kenya, Ger
many and Cyprus, added: ‘ The Queen was my overall boss in the Army – that how we referred to her, as “the boss”.
‘We will never see the like of her again in terms of a monarch with longevity and the type of person she was. You have to ask yourself, would you rather be sat at home watching the funeral procession on TV or here seeing it in person?
‘It’s a once in a lifetime opportunity, a piece of history – one of those things that makes this country great and brings so many people together.’ He was later joined by his brother Ken Nott, 54, from Newcastle, who was in the Coldstream Guards for four years.
Ken said: ‘I did Trooping the Colour in 1986 and 1987. We’re proud to be here on this solemn day to day to pay our respects.’
And royal superfan Bernadette Christie, from Grande Prairie, a city in Alberta, Canada, came to London last week. The 68-year-old said she spent ‘about my fifth’ night sleeping outdoors on The Mall on Sunday to ensure a good view of the funeral procession. A veteran of several similar trips to England, including for William and Kate’s wedding, the Diamond Jubilee and the Platinum Jubilee, Mrs Christie, who was born in Wimbledon, south-west London, and emigrated to Canada as a child in 1957 with her parents, said: ‘The Queen was honour, the Queen was grace, she had a good faith and a great commitment to the country.
‘She didn’t ask for the job, but she took it on gracefully. She was an example to all women and to all leaders.’ Mrs Christie, who described herself as ‘semi-retired’ having been in sales all her life and still involved as a landlord for ‘ rent- to- owns’, added: ‘ I hate sleeping outdoors – it’s a lot of work, it’s cold and my feet are freezing. I average about two hours’ sleep. But it’s worth it to be here and see this.’
Mrs Christie, who was draped in a Canadian flag as the coffin passed her, said of the procession: ‘I couldn’t stop crying.
‘It hit me first when they sang God Save the King. Then it hit me again when the coffin went by.
‘It was overwhelming. And I was surprised how long the procession was and how many people were in it.’ Tracey Hannam, 55, a grandmother of eight who lives in Bath, went to London to join those lining The Mall. She travelled from the Orkney islands where she was on an epic fundraising walk for the Royal National Lifeboat Institution (RNLI) charity.
She said: ‘I’ve walked 5,700 miles since July 2020. I was at North Ronaldsay island and jumped in an eight-seater aeroplane. I got to Kirkwall then got a ferry to Aberdeen and took a 12-hour bus ride to London. The Queen was patron of the RNLI and I’ve tied an RNLI flag to the barrier on The Mall.
‘I’m used to sleeping in a tent from my walk so one night here was water off a duck’s back. It’s unbelievable here – the human kindness and camaraderie.
‘I admired the Queen. Come what may, she kept going and didn’t let anything stop her. She was an example to us all.’
‘She took on the job gracefully... she was an example to all women and to all leaders’
THEY’VE come from far and wide, my companions on The Mall, here to witness the greatest procession in living memory. From Canada, New Zealand, Beirut, Italy and Denmark, Penzance, Aberdeen, Kent and London, in this small, packed but strangely calm and orderly zone.
Some are wearing dark suits and black ties. There’s a smattering of black lace veils. Entire families are draped in Union Jacks. Teenagers are in trainers, veterans are festooned with medals.
Shelley from Hastings has had her nails painted black and decorated with perfect golden crowns. ‘It was the least I could do for such an amazing woman,’ she says.
There are babies, toddlers, grandparents, a vast Labrador called Monty and a pretty white dog called Willow wearing a smart coat covered with royal insignia.
Some stream in at 9.30am, pinkfaced and flustered, just before the park closes and find the crowds at least 20 deep. Most won’t be able to see a thing. But no one seems to care — they just want to be here.
Many, like the Miller family from Ipswich, in pride of place at the railings, have been here all night.
‘The night was tricky — very cold — but also amazing,’ says mum Rachel, 48, a care worker.
Most had a visceral need to pay their respects.
Julia Fuller, 80, a retired literary editor, had no idea she was coming until she found herself boarding the first train from Whitstable this morning.
‘I came to the Coronation with my mum and dad and brother — all gone of course, now,’ she says.
‘I don’t have a television, so I was going to watch at my local British Legion, but suddenly it was like a magnet, I had to be here.’
She came on her own with just a packet of sandwiches and a small bottle of water — unsteady on her feet and struggling a bit with no chair, no plan. But the crowd came to her rescue, making room right at the front.
‘Oh the kindness, the kindness!’ she cries. ‘ Someone gave their chair, someone gave their space!’
Steve, 58, a burly chap from Leeds, was in the Royal Signals for nine years.
‘She was the first boss I ever had,’ he says, suddenly all flushed and tearful. ‘I had to come.’
It has been a long, long wait for many, but one they all say has passed surprisingly quickly, with shared sandwiches, new friendships and the occasional ripple of excitement when a gleaming vehicle shepherds various royals down The Mall.
‘ There’s Prince William! Did you see?’
When, at 11am, the funeral is relayed over loudspeakers, there’s total silence, despite the size of the crowd and the hours they have waited.
Most put their mobile phones away. Many close their eyes and tilt their faces to the heavens. No one joins in the hymns, not even The Lord Is My Shepherd, though we all know the words.
It’s only during God Save The King that people finally join in, haltingly at first, and then more confidently, followed by a gentle applause, that travels up towards Buckingham Palace like a calming wave.
Then silence again. Many are in tears — including security staff. A policewoman near me mutters: ‘I shouldn’t be crying.
‘I’ve been trained for this, but I had no idea.’
Some of the crowd, of course, are old pros.
Bernadette Christie, 68, from Canada, has been camping out on the south side of The Mall since Wednesday.
‘She wasn’t gone five minutes and my ticket was booked,’ she says. She and her gang have camped out at endless state occasions over the years and have comfy chairs, thick sleeping bags and a huge red suitcase stuffed with snacks that they call ‘the canteen’.
For many, this is the final stage of a very personal royal triathlon.
There is no whooping... Just quiet
They’ve laid flowers, they’ve queued to see Her Majesty lyingin-state and now they’re here for the funeral procession.
Jacqueline Dow, 75, from Penzance, hopped on a train on Sunday morning, queued for eight hours to see the Queen lying-instate, then stayed up all night until it was time for the procession.
I met her on a park bench with her son, Colin, who’d bought her a home- cooked meal in a Tupperware box.
‘I had to see her because I had a special dedication, from me to her — I knelt and vowed that I would take on some of her attributes and try to emulate them for the rest of my life,’ she says.
But now for the best bit. The procession — oh, the procession!
An orgy of livery, polish, symmetry, feathers, bearskins and bands.
Seven bands in total, rows of gleaming trombones and French horns. All in perfect lockstep as their music flows and soars, and warms our souls.
Many at the front try to record it, but most are thwarted by the sheer length, their arms shaking at the exertion of holding their
phones at an awkward angle for so long. Then comes the coffin draped in the royal standard — Sceptre, crown and exquisite flowers atop.
And then, of course, the griefstricken family.
Princess Anne, suddenly small and fragile- looking in her complicated military uniform. King Charles, grey with fatigue.
William and Harry, once again, marching in unison. Kate and Camilla somehow holding it together as the world gawps at them. Meghan and Sophie Wessex looking firmly in opposite directions.
Afterwards, when the last liveried soldier has marched past, the warm, earthy smell of the cavalry has faded and the sounds of the seventh and final band has died on the breeze, there is no cheering, whooping or yelling. Just quiet. For a full minute or so, no one really moves. They just stand in silence.
Some clutch partners, others hug new friends made over the long, cold night. Numbers are exchanged. Vows made to return for the Coronation.
One old boy wreathed in medals opens a tinfoil packet of cheese sandwiches and finally allows himself the first sit- down of the day. All are happy and strangely full of hope.
Because, yes, eyes are gritty, clothes are crumpled and backs are stiff, but we all feel privileged to be here.
Perhaps Sam, a project manager from Wakefield, who camped out with his wife Rachel and three children and hasn’t had any sleep since Saturday morning, puts it best.
‘We’re gaining some national pride again,’ he says.
‘This has been an extraordinary coming together with the whole world watching. But most of all, we feel very, very British again.
‘And proud of it.’