Saturday Queuing

Walking through the cold north wind back from Tesco I cogitated on the people seen slowly walking by the Queens coffin.  A never ending TV channel allows us to see the mourners pass by, sometimes hurried by the men in black coats.  All ages appear, a surprising number of children have waited for hours to see this event.  All colours, all ages, all types appear.  Of course MPs and others have privileged entrance, no queuing amongst the plebs for the Rees-Moggs of this world.  David Beckham made an appearance, a publicity stunt clearly, and one that will bring in more cash to pay his wife's debts.  No doubt also that she thought up the idea.  While 45% of Scots claim to wish a republic, 36% a monarchy, in England the proportion is much higher.  No doubt the Brexiteer mob are among the most loyal, the Tory Blue everywhere like to consider they may one day touch that royalty themselves.  Fat chance really.  Today, many pass through the ancient hall, few knowing its History, almost none knowing the queen except for media images and possibly a handshake once upon a time.  But they have come, endured the wait, bossed by the controllers, stand for a moment, bow gently or almost touching the floor, curtsey or salute, or just nod the head and wander thoughtfully on.  Some cross themselves in a variety of manners, others blow a kiss, while servicemen bearing a row of medals from various wars stand tall, adjust their caps, stiffly salute, and march on.  The serviceman's loyalty to the crown is deeper than many realise, this is built into them during service.  The queen herself would enjoy the attention and the show of loyalty.  She would understand also those who wish not to attend, unlike the media whose coverage continues to be sycophantic.