Queuing for the Queen — A Trip Up My Sleeve

On the eve of Queen Elizabeth II’s funeral, thousands of ordinary Brits are queueing along the River Thames for a final chance to pay their respects. By Jane Hayward

Three swans fly over Southwark Bridge following the course of the River Thames towards Westminster. It feels like a symbol connected to the death of Queen Elizabeth II, who is lying in state in Westminster Hall. After all, every British swan belongs to the Queen. No, they belong to King Charles III now, we have to remind ourselves. Is it faithfulness, or elegance that swans represent? Perhaps one of the thousands of people queueing below along the south bank of the river, some of whom are now pointing upwards and exclaiming, might have the answer.

This is The Queue, a slow-moving, undulating endurance test filled with ordinary British people who are prepared to wait for 12 hours, 16 hours, 25 hours, to see the Queen’s coffin, draped in the Royal Standard and guarded by the seven regiments of the Household Division of the Army, in an exquisitely impressive and moving tableau. As the vigil ends tomorrow morning at 6.30am, this is their last chance.

They are on the Queen’s Walk, literally, as the waterfront promenade between Tower Bridge and Lambeth Bridge was created and named for the Queen’s Silver Jubilee in 1977.

It’s a ungenerous autumn morning and every ray of sunshine comes with an equal amount of chill breeze. Hats, quilted jackets and blankets handed out by by firefighters are much in evidence. Hands are wrapped around coffees which the staff from Sea Containers hotel are giving out for free.

“The views make it easier,” says a man scurrying back to his place with a breakfast roll. Across the river is St Paul’s Cathedral, its bells ringing. To his left are the Globe Theatre (opened by the Queen in 1997) and the Tate Modern (opened by her Majesty in 2000). So much of the iconic skyline has appeared during her reign.

Dawdling patiently along are a cross-section of Brits: suited men sporting medals, kids practising hand-stands, a chic lady in shades carrying a Fortnum and Mason bag, another holding Tesco carriers. Here are different ethnicities, different ages. The oldest people are smiling wanly, looking very tired. And several disabled people stare determinedly ahead; now the special timed slots have all been taken The Queue is their only option.

The atmosphere is peaceful, friendly and very low-key. All join in warm applause for a busker’s rendition of Leonard Cohen’s Hallelujah. And then comes more fun. Two mounted policemen turn up, and encourage queuers to stroke the horses’ noses. “What a lovely bunch,” says a lady from the Salvation Army as she doles out tea and biscuits. “If only we could wake up on Tuesday and people were still behaving like this.”

At Jubilee Gardens (created and named for the Queen’s Silver Jubilee), it’s time for selfies in front of the London Eye. Westminster lies close but The Queue detours to Lambeth Bridge and intensifies into a series of snaking bends, meaning it will be several more hours before these people reach Westminster Hall.

Up the steps at Westminster, roads are already blocked off and the police are out in force for tomorrow’s funeral. The crowds - mostly tourists up here - are so thick you can only shuffle forward a few inches at a time. After a glimpse of the Union flags flying at half-mast for the Queen above Westminster Abbey and the Houses of Parliament, it makes sense to head back across Westminster Bridge to Waterloo Station, where a digital advertising board shows the Queen smiling alongside railway workers.

There, collapsed on to seats with a Pret a Manger lunch are three female generations of a family who have just left the vigil, having queued for 12 1/2 hours along the Thames. The youngest is chatting and animated, the grandmother is groaning dramatically. Was it worth it? “Yee-ees, but if I get varicose veins, I’ll blame the Queen,” she says, and then hobbles after her family to catch the train home.