The death of the longest serving monarch in our history is — self evidently — a once in a lifetime event. I felt I had to sample the feeling in London around Buckingham Palace, so I spent last Monday afternoon walking in the area with my camera.

I had seen in advance that the Mall would be hopelessly crowded, and the advice was to approach the Palace via either Green Park or St James’s Park. Green Park underground was easy to get to, and I chose that. Crossing Green Park heading south towards the Palace, there was a constant stream of people going in the same direction, some carrying flowers to lay as tributes to the Queen. Every so often, someone was on the side of the path selling more flowers, usually roses.

I’d hoped to get down to the Palace at about Canada Gate in order to come out opposite the Victoria Memorial. No such luck. Crowd control was in operation, and, by now densely packed, we were directed up the Mall away from the Palace to a crossing point over to the St James’s park side. On the way across the road many people stopped to take pictures down to the Palace, to the annoyance of the stewards who exhorted us to keep moving: “There’s nothing to see — not even a bit of horse poo!”

We headed back down towards the Palace, mingling with the the long line of people coming from Trafalgar Square.

I baled out of the queue before it got to the junction with Spur Road, and went down into the park. The trees closest to the Mall within the park were ringed with flowers and other tributes to the Queen, many with personal messages. I walked further into the park, just enjoying the summery day. It was getting towards mid-September and the day was hot; people were lying out in the park or pottering through as though nothing else was happening.

I was tempted not to join the queue leading up to the Palace because it was so long. I had originally planned to look at the flowers laid at the gates of the Palace, but the endless queue of people nearly put me off. However, as a once-in-a-lifetime event, eventually I felt I had to.

The queue snaked along Spur Road until it made a turn to cross the road and pass in front of the Palace gates. Many people in the crowd had brought flowers to lay at the gates, but everyone was greeted by stewards and signs forbidding this. “Keep moving, keep moving. Don’t lay flowers here — they will be removed. Take some pictures, but don’t lay flowers. Keep moving.” A few flowers were on the gates, but not nearly as many as I’d expected. Some people’s disappointment at not being able to lay their flowers where they wanted was palpable, but nobody argued: it did not seem to be a day for that. Instead, everyone was directed to lay them in a dedicated area of Green Park. Further round the Palace, on the side facing north-west, there were fewer stewards and many more flowers being laid, despite the instructions.

Passing the Palace, everyone had their phones out for selfies, pictures of the flowers, videos and vlogs.

Exiting the area of the Palace, the crowd headed over to Green Park, and I quickly found the area with the flowers. They stretched for acres, carefully arranged in islands, rows or shapes with walkways in between. One group of flowers had been arranged to form THANK YOU; some were arranged in hearts, and some in extended curving lines. The trees were ringed in flowers; many had signs or messages hanging from low branches, or their trunks hung with drawings or messages.

The legacy of Paddington Bear having tea with the Queen as part of the Platinum Jubilee was ubiquitous. Paddington figures and drawings were everywhere.

It was lovely to see messages from different countries: I noticed them from Argentina, Uraguay, Ireland, Brasil and others.

The crowd was large and contained all ages from tiny, new babies with their mums to extremely elderly people with their helpers. I got the impression that the mums wanted to be able to tell their children that they had been taken to see the Queen’s flowers when they are older.

Now that the Covid pandemic has gone into some form of remission, I’ve enjoyed hearing accents from all around the world again: that was very much the case in this crowd with accents of many countries — a small touch of the world ante-Covid.

I’d not come with any particular expectations of the atmosphere or behaviour of the people I met, but everyone seemed genuinely respectful. Everyone seemed considerate of others, and there was little to no shouting or raucousness. Not even boombox noises from phones.

I’m very glad I went on Monday, as that seems likely to be the least busy day all week. Today, Wednesday, the Queen's coffin was paraded on a gun carriage on its way to lying in state at Westminster Hall. Vast crowds are expected to file past the coffin, with queues projected to stretch back to Tower Bridge, and take maybe 30 hours. Hopefully, that is no more than scare talk to minimise the number of visitors: whatever, it has certainly put me off. I’m both happy and relieved that I sampled the atmosphere of the time: I don’t expect to see this again.

Update 2022-10-12 I was originally planning to write some more about the Queen’s funeral but in the end, it seems redundant. The funeral and the overall mourning period have been so extensively covered in the media, I don’t need to add to it.

Just some small points. The queue I mentioned for the lying-in-state ended up going even further than I had thought, all the way back to Southwark Park. The last person through was on her second time around. The queue now has its own Wikipedia page, as does the Death and state funeral of Elizabeth II.

On a more local note, our local postbox seems to be in extended mourning since it continues to wear a knitted bonnet in black with a knitted candle in white wool on top. (Compare with the knitted bonnet for the Jubillee just a few months ago.)