The Queen's funeral cortege moves along the Mall in London. Photo: AFP
First Person - I've been in London for ten days. Ten days of intensity and focus, reporting on one of the biggest stories of my journalism career. Navigating the hustle and bustle of massive crowds, waiting in long queues (but not the long queue) and endless walking have sapped my energy.
But for an hour or so amidst the crowds at Hyde Park, watching the spectacular and sombre state funeral service on the big screen, I had a moment of pause.
Hushed crowds at Hyde Park watch the funeral service of Queen Elizabeth II on a large screen. Photo: RNZ / Corin Dann
Lying on the grass bathed in warm English autumn sun, the crowd was hushed and reflective around me, I found my thoughts drifting from the Queen to my own lost loved one. In my case it was my mother who died a couple of years ago.
Most of the history and religious context of the hymns and prayers in Westminster Abbey went over my head, but the feeling and emotion didn't. I knew my mum would have known some of the tunes and she would have hummed along.
The scene in Westminster Abbey during the funeral. Photo: AFP / Pool
My thoughts also drifted to my grandmother Molly, a loving, stoic working class woman. I can still picture her sitting devotedly watching the Queen's Christmas message in her 1970s armchair, as my siblings and I played with toys on the floor.
It was hard not to be impressed by the beauty and scale of the ritual and pomp put on by the British this week.
If the aim was to not just farewell the Queen, but reinforce the authority and continuity of the monarchy under King Charles, then you'd have to say it looks like it will be successful, in Britain at least. (New Zealand may, of course, be a different story).
The British public responded big time with their hours of queuing to see the lying in state and procession marches. All in good spirits and with a strong sense of fun and community.
People in Hyde Park, ahead of Queen Elizabeth's funeral. Photo: RNZ / Nick Monro
It really was a great privilege to feel just a little bit part of that shared and unique collective experience here in London this week.
And so it was just as well I carried a beautiful handmade handkerchief of my grandmother Molly's with me with to London as a bit of spiritual touchpoint.
Because when those Navy soldiers pulling the cortege linked hands and marched in unison, and the bagpipes fired up ... hairs went up on back of neck and a tear I didn't think I had in me sneaked out of my eye.
One of the scenes that stirred up the emotions of RNZ journalist Corin Dann. Photo: AFP / Pool
