What were you doing this time last year?
Resting after a hard week's work?
Drinking the night away after a quick beer after work turned into a spontaneous session?
Too old to remember or indeed care?
Me? I joined The Queue. Yep. On the night of 16th / 17th September 2022 I decided to take that moment in history, which will probably never be repeated on such a scale and did what we Brits do best and join the back of a queue.
This wasn't just any old queue. Oh no. This was a queue 70 years in the making, a part of Operation London Bridge Has Fallen Down, I joined a queue over 7 miles in length and for as near as makes no difference 13 hours to my respects to Her Late Majesty Queen Elizabeth II.
I will spend the next few paragraphs remembering that night and early morning snaking my way through the streets and parks of South London from Southwark Park all the way to the Palace of Westminster.
I wrote a brief summary as I journied back on the train home, but I was so exhausted I didn't have the mental capacity to write everything down.
Not your average Friday night out on the town
The Queue, as it was to become referred to, started in the early morning of 14th September 2023 following the death of the Queen on 8th September. It was formed to allow members of the public to view the laying in state of the Queen's coffin in Westminster Hall. I had discussed with my wife before the Queen died what we would do as a family or individually for the events marking her death. As a low level historian myself (low level in that I have a degree in the subject, I am by no means a specialist) I could only go off what I had read about King George VI'S death and memories of the Queen Mother's death in the early years of the 2000's. We decided that the fuberal and coronation would be watched on TV but I would like, if it was possible to be in London in the period up to the funeral to get some of the atmosphere and occasion. As the Queue grew and grew I managed to go to Green Park during a lunch break to see the fields of flowers and Paddington Bears that had been left by the public. It was an emotionally amazing site. But it was the briefest of time spent.
Friday morning 16th September and the Government declared The Queue was at capacity with a wait time of 24 hours and that it would be closed for at least six hours.
There started, in Southwark Park a queue to join the queue when it reopened. At that point I thought the opportunity to take part had been missed. I knew a few people who had joined the queue earlier in the week so at least I could listen to their stories and experiences.
During the afternoon my wife said why didn't I just go into London for the evening. If the queue remains closed I could still get the atmosphere at Westminster, walk some of the queue and still say I was there. If the queue reopened then I had her support to join it while she held the Fort at home. So I went to the shop at the end of the road for sweet and savoury snacks and fluids, booked a train ticket (open return) and was dropped off at the station not knowing how long I would be going for.
As I got closer to London there were rumours on various media outlets that The Queue would be reopening. I didn't hold up much hope as the Queue to join the queue would be ahead and waiting. Still what harm would there be to head over the river and take a look. The train I was on stopped at London Bridge. Perfect.
As we crossed the river at Blackfriars I looked down and could just see the hoards of people on the Southbank heading in one direction snaking its way towards Waterloo. Shit. If the Queue had been closed all day and people were still here, how long was it?!
Still off at London Bridge and one stop on the Jubilee line to Bermodsey and then a 10 minute walk to the park. 6.30 and the gates had just reopened. This is my chance. Here we go. Even though the sign said 14 hour wait. Bring it on.
What this map doesn't show is the miles of zig zag queues in Southwark Park in the bottom left
The following 2 hours or so were spent zig zagging through Southwark Park, stopping and starting, back and forth, trying to work out how far it was.
It is worth at this point reminding you, if you are still reading, that I joined the queue on my own. It is also worth poiting out that I am a very shy person and I am not good in social situations especially with people I do not know. I.E. I will not initiate conversation. Whilst everyone around me was chatting away in their family and friends groups, I stood in silence, occasionally chewing on a wine gum an restricting phone use to 5 minutes once an hour to preserve battery life. The only exception would be to take photos (a collection of which can be viewed at the end of this memoir.
I also noticed as I took in my surroundings that many people has come under prepared, no bags of stodge to fuel them through the night, no means to stay hydrated and no layers to protect against the nighttime elements. I smiled wryly to myself.
I did however manage to pluck up the courage and interact and latch onto a family group in the queue. I can't remember the exact exchange, but I interrupted a conversation I had overheard about a baby crying or asleep in their parents arms somewhere ahead and the parents of the family group next to me telling their children not to expect any carries overnight, to which I said that's why I left mine at home!
It was going to be a long night.
Eventually after a couple of hours we made our way out of the park. The constant stopping and starting was to allow people to cross a main road and continue to the Riverside.
The Queue had one nasty little trick up its sleeve and that was to lead the (un)willing participants into a false sense of hope and expectation. The reason for this is because in parts the speed picked up quite rapidly to a brisk walking pace, so much so that gaps would open up and some cheeky monkeys would try and overtake others. This happened on the paths and side streets of Bermondsey. Households handset up makeshift stalls selling refreshments at hugely inflated prices (wouldn't you if given the opportunity?) And opening their homes and more importantly their toilets for a comfort break (would you?). However what it meant was the sign saying the wait time of 14 hours seemed to be over exaggerating.
Then we came to a stop. If you refer back to the map the stop was between miles 4 and 5 where the path turns left inland for a bit before heading back to the river and Tower Bridge. The reason for the stop was so that wristbands could be handed out. Yep, like being at a festival or all inclusive hotel these bad boys were the key (not the secret) to being a member of the club. These would guarantee you place in the queue so you could leave for the toilet , a rest, a stretch, food or drink and those around you would save your space. It also meant entry to Wesminster. Queue jumpers from now on would not be accepted.
Once the wristbands were on, the queue moved at a slow but steady pace with conversations jovial and people deciding when to strategically add extra layers of clothing to feel the benefit but also not run out before the temperature dipped during the early hours. London landmarks were looked forward to, passed and mentally ticked off. Tower Bridge, HMS Belfast, London Bridge, Winchester Palace, The Clink, The Globe theatre, Millennium Bridge, Tate Modern, Blackfiars Bridge (remember from about 6 hours earlier). We were thinking maybe we would be there and done by 3am. There was that false hope trick again!
The Queue started to noticeably slow before stopping outside the Southbank centre where the skateboard park is.
As time passed, the queue got lighter in volume as people escaped to find a place to sit or lie down. It turned out, after I spoke to one of the numerous and incredibly friendly marshalls on the route (may have even been a police officer) that Westminster Hall was closed for 2 hours to allow for cleaning and funeral rehersals.
I managed to read a bit of my book, have a stretch and some brief shut eye against a temporary fence before becoming restless. I decided to watch the numerous young skateboarders doing their thing in the underbelly of the southbank centre. If you know London you know where I mean.
Eventually a couple of young teens came over and asked if they could ask mea question. Of course I said yes. They asked where I was from and why I was here. I explained and then asked in return what it was thy were doing here. Their response hit me hard. “Look around” they said “all of you and the police and Marshalls, this is the safest place in London right now.” With that, they went back to their mates. I often wonder what has happened to those kids and if they have found safety in the last year. That brief conversation will stay with me.
At about 4am the queue wakes up and starts moving towards the London Eye and old city Hall before climbing up to Wesminster Bridge, the Palace of Wesminster now in view. Maybe we will be out by 5.30am. False sense of hope. Delirium is starting to set in. The sun is beginning to think about the end of Sleepy Time.
A left turn down the steps before Wesminster Bridge and down the tiver path, past the covid memorial wall and Lambeth Palace and over Lambeth Bridge. Right into Victoria Gardens
So close but so far , the entrance to the Palace of Wesminster grounds.
Back to zig zagging now for the rest of the queue to the security tent. Conversation is jovial but getting harder and tired induced irritability is kicking in. I was mad to do this.
The sun is rising over the river, we have seen through the night. People are bleary eyed and probably a bit funky to the senses, but we are all in this together.
As we get closer there are reminders of the dos and don't and all bags must be emptied- there is a flood bank collecting unopened food and drinks. Phones must be turned off. This is it. Security which is tighter and better organised than an airport. At this point, the atmosphere changes. Gone is the laughter and high spirits and in comes a nervous silence. We communicate with facial expressions and gestures. We are guided through the grounds to the entrance steps of Westminser Hall and held whilst there is a change of guard.
MP's greet us and gesture where we should go and which side of the coffin we will pass. Up the steps, complete silence, a glance to the left and there is the open space of Wesminster Hall, the only serving part of the original Palace of Westminster. If these walls could talk! But this isn't the time. Right in the centre lies the late Queen's coffin, guards standing at each corner and soldiers around the side of the hall too. I walk into the hall and the coffin is on my left. I stop. Pause for what feels like an eternity, bow my head in respect and then proceed to leave. But as I am about to leave, I stop and look behind me for one last look. It is at that point the moment gets to me and I start crying. Fro. No where. I'm not the only one, but I have surprised myself as to how seeing her affected me. I didn't know the Queen or ever met her, but there was a sense of loss.
And with that I was outside I the early morning sun, a brief goodbye to the people I had shared the last 13 hours with making polite but meaningful conversations a back to the real world and some much needed sleep!
With that, I will leave you with some photos of that unique night
Until next time
Simply brilliant! I could never do what you did but absolutely love that you did it AND then had the determination to write this. Thanks mate!
Thank you for this read.