The long long wait

 

Subject: The long long wait.

Symbolism, deference, nobles oblige, patriotism these terms hardly fulfill the description of the people who on turning  the corner descend the steps into Westminster Hall after spending 16 hours advancing through the chilly evening for their moment of glory, a brief pause in front of the coffin, a bow of the head, a curtsy, a salute, if in uniform and then it’s over and they walk on away into the street where dawn is breaking and their anonymity returns

What makes people behave so, is it the compliance which made young men sign up for the horror of trenches in 1914, a compliance rooted deep within us to remove ourselves for an hour or two from the banality of everyday life and seek some sort of equity.

At five in the morning I don’t see the great and the good pausing on the VIP balcony, whilst, if truth were told they have benefitted the most from hierarchical privilege. They will come later when, after breakfasting and having read the paper the car draws up on the drive to make the transition an easy one. Not for them a flask of cold tea and a dry sandwich, instead kippers and scrambled egg, with coffee which befits their post and the obligation we owe them.

Today is the last day of this homage. At some time people will be discouraged from joining the queue and slowly it will wither away separating the people from their sense of belonging, returning to act out their lives in solitary compartments as bequeathed by birth. They will long remember the friendships formed whilst waiting, the stoicism of the people around them, the unflagging humour shared throughout the long dark night that sense of nostalgia and purpose which they can relate to their children when they get home.