Living in London, During The Week Following Queen Elizabeth’s Death

I have been asked lots of times over the last few days, “What is it like living in London at the moment?”

Without hesitation I will reply in the same way as always. I feel immensely privileged to live in London and to call it my home.

I have lived in London during many recent historic moments; the death of Diana Princess of Wales. I went to Kensington Palace and lined the streets for her funeral.  The Death of the Queen Mother, I queued up to sign the condolence book in Westminster Abbey.  I was a volunteer games maker during the 2012 Olympics. I was on a tube train during the 7/7 bombings. I’ve been here for various jubilee’s.  I cycled through London’s empty streets during the pandemic to get to work, and I am here now for this, the latest in long line of momentous occasions, the death of Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II.

At a time when it seems the eyes of the world are on London I am once more reminded of how fortunate I am to be here.  I can walk freely and confidently through the familiar streets others have travelled miles to see.  I can wander through Green Park and towards Buckingham Palace and view it through the eyes of someone who has seen it many, many times before.  I can saunter through Westminster, and past The Abbey at will. I can hop on any tube I please and easily and quickly find my way home.

In recent days, 1000’s upon 1000’s of people have flocked to London, many of them heading to Green Park to lay flowers in the designated areas.  This beautiful green space in the heart of London runs alongside Constitution Hill, on the opposite side of the road from Buckingham Palace Gardens where it joins The Mall.

Just a few weeks ago in the heat of summer Green Park was filled with deckchairs and families and picnics and sunbathing couples and ball games. Now it has become a focal point for people to pay their respects, reflect on recent events or simply observe another moment in history London’s rich history.

The atmosphere  in much of London at the moment is a little sombre, weighted down by a new heaviness.  It is also quiet and respectful.  There is a gentle scent of flowers in the mild September air.  Flowers are piled high against trees. Sunflowers seem to take centre stage but they are ably supported by gladioli and roses and carnations and  chrysanthemums

Supermarket bunches nestle alongside pretty hand tied posies from gardens.  Groups of smiling volunteers carefully remove any plastic wrappings to be disposed of as a constant stream of people arrive leaving with their own offerings. Many handwritten, and laminated messages from families, speak of their admiration for the Queen.  Many thank her for her service, other say how her speech was a staple of their family Christmas.

Hand drawn pictures of Queen Elizabeth and notes from children and schools are interspersed with the flowers. One little girl had written that although she had never met her she had heard she was a “nice, kind and polite queen”.  She also thanked her for letting people from other countries come to England because her family was from Romania.  Paddington bears are dotted here and there, a reminder of one of the Queen’s last appearances.  Who would have imagined a fictional bear from Peru would become such a recent feature of this Queens reign?

Families, tourists, men in suits on their way to work, older women, younger women, teenagers, runners pausing to take in the scene, on duty policemen and members of security teams stop and mingle side by side.  Each person, pausing for a moment beside the sea of flowers, perhaps reading some of the notes, perhaps wiping a tear, but then calmly, moving on before pausing at somewhere else to do the same again.  There is a silent acknowledgment that we are in this together.

Many visitors make their way from Green Park to Buckingham Palace.  Tourists have always flocked her to get a glimpse of what living in a Royal Palace might be like or to view the changing of the guard.  Today barriers prevent anyone from getting close to the gates.  Media tents are erected around the perimeter, 24 hour news being a feature of this occasion.

London is peppered with men and women in high visibility jackets.  Orange and yellow and hot pink differentiate different responsibilities. Those in purple are the volunteers whose job it is to direct and smile and reassure.

I had a brief exchange with a member of the stewarding team who was shepherding people across the road near Buckingham Palace.  I commented on how long the day must feel for her already.  With a smile she said it was her 3^rd long day.  I said I hoped it stayed dry for her and she said it would, it was going to be a lovely day.

The number of policeman on the street is startling.  They are on every street corner and walk in twos along the Mall, beside the river. They stand for hours on end around Westminster.   Many of them are not part of London’s Metropolitan police service, many of them have come from counties in far flung corners of the UK.  Yet, they all greet every query or question or request for a photograph with a smile and good humour.

I spoke with a police officer near to Westminster Abbey who told me he had come from Somerset.  Last week soon after the Queens death a request had gone out asking for volunteers to come to London.  He was one of the many who volunteered.  He arrived on Monday after just one day off in the last 7.  He will now work every day until after the funeral.  Tuesday he walked 24,000 steps monitoring and supporting the queue of people waiting to see The Queen lying in state.  On Wednesday, his feet encased in his standard issue black shiny shoes are throbbing.  He told me of how a lady had taken pity on him and given him some paracetamol.  Despite this, he spoke of how pleased he is to be here. He loves meeting and chatting with people, and is glad to serve in this way.  He also said he felt this occasion was bringing people together.  I think he is right. Connections are being formed, strangers walk side by side, they may not even speak but words are not always necessary.  There is a silver thread of shared experience gently drawing us together.

As I wander the streets in my floral coat I am struck by how many others are wearing black.  Office workers in black suits and ties, tourists who have clearly chosen to dress more sombrely than perhaps they normally would for this visit to London.

London is filled with people who have come simply to be here.  I suspect if you asked them why, they would say little except ‘I just felt I wanted to be here’.  I understand that, I  just want to be here too.