And still they come

 

Subject: And still they come.







I’m still fascinated by the faces of the people who are still arriving in a never ending stream to pay their final respects. They are a census of the people who inhabit these isles. Old, young, fat, thin, worn weary and fresh with their lives ahead of them. They reflect who we are in 2022 better than the national census they are the living example of a society which has had hard times but also success. They are respectful of each other there’s no queue jumping no mocking no joking just a slow acceptance of each other and why they are here. And still they come, the aged unsure on their feet suffering their arthritis and a doggy back, the guys off the building site who normally wouldn’t give you the time of day for monarchy, the women wrapped in their discarded coat, the holy men in their dog collars, the Sikhs and the Presbyterians, and people of no religion shuffle forward. All creeds and colours of the rainbow respectful of each other in a strange symbiosis.

Would that we could bottle this mood and spread it around not only here in the UK but around the world a world which seems to be entering once more a fit of peek 🫣

How much more intriguing this montage or cross section of ordinary folk to borrow a line from the Archers. So much more interesting than watching the antics on Love Island or the game shows which invade our sensibilities each day on the tele. Real textured people, not contrived people who are continually on show but never reveal who they really are. A fabrication of our fabricated world, the synthetic ad man’s pallet of preposterous idealism.

The realism of the people paying their respects is what attracts me, their warts and all ordinariness which melds this country into the place it is.

Little children wide eyed not sure what to make of it all, hesitant searching a lead from big sister or mommy and daddy, aware of the gravitas and the sense of importance adults are attaching to this occasion and hardly being able to wait until they see their class mates to tell them “they were there”.

It occurs to me that the BBC could make a fortune selling bits of video as people file past like the official  photographer at a wedding.