The end of an era

We were faffing about at home yesterday and I was just starting to get lunch when my Hero sat on the kitchen windowseat with his phone.

“Oh heck”, he said, “this doesn’t sound good”.

I looked over and asked what he was on about, all my worry genes springing into action.

“The Queen. They’ve issued a medical report and sent for the family”.

We put the TV on and watched, admiring the way the BBC presenters kept the reports moving without really saying much at all. Except they were. Both of us had no doubt that something was happening and even though they were careful not to make this any kind of premature obituary, we knew we were waiting for an announcement.

We got our things together during the afternoon, faffed about a bit more but always within sight or sound of the TV, which was reporting on-stop about the arrival of family members and the crowds which had started to gather at Windsor, Buckingham Palace and Balmoral. Edward rang in the late afternoon and we had a sombre conversation with him - the end of an era, we agreed. None of us had ever known life without her.

We left home around 5.45pm, heading off towards London along the M4. The BBC had cleared all programming and was reporting across all channels. Shortly after 6.30pm, the news of her death came and we both shed a tear.

It had been a stormy afternoon with heavy rain and the BBC was reporting rainbows over Buckingham Palace and Balmoral. As we heard the news, a rainbow had appeared in front of us too and I whipped out my phone and snapped a photo. The time 6.33pm. I remarked to my hero that we’d not forget this day, that’s for sure.

The Times front cover

Sitting down later with a glass of red, we raised our glasses to the Queen…and then to the King.

From the BBC website

This morning we both woke thinking of him. Always knowing that one day, this would happen and having spent a lifetime “in waiting”. Yet, to have to assume the responsibility at a time of such sadness - those of us who have experienced their mother’s death can imagine how he must be feeling, and to do all of this in the public eye must be incredibly tough. Our thoughts are with King Charles III. Thankfully, there’s a “procedure”; a well rehearsed series of events that will be followed. Will that make it easier? I don’t know.

Here at Heathrow, I said good morning to the lady with the cleaning trolley, who said how sad she felt after “yesterday’s news”. We both held back tears and nodded.

She was speaking for us all.