Pulled to London to be part of a major moment in history

Mike Yardley is a Christchurch-based writer on current affairs and travel, who has written a column for Stuff for 15 years.

OPINION: Greetings from London where the longest of goodbyes is finally reaching its climactic full stop.

I’m one of the two million visitors who have swamped the British capital, swept up by an intense urge to be here, to pay respects to the exceptional life of Queen Elizabeth II, and to grasp a first-hand flavour of this major inflexion point in world history.

Like many Kiwis, I’ve been reflecting on my own fleeting experiences with the Royal Family and the impact they’ve had on my life.

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Three indelible markers stand out. As a 5-year-old, my sister and I were bustled out to Lincoln University by my mother, to line the route of the royal walkabout during the Queen’s 1977 tour.

After being thrust to the front of the rope line, I suddenly grew concerned that Her Majesty was going to overlook me.

Being a rather boisterous child, when she was within shouting distance of me, I yelled out, “Hi Queen!” It worked a beaut.

Sure enough, she dutifully toddled over, pausing briefly to greet me, with a broad smile and enquiring, “How are You?”

My 7-year-old sister, who didn’t share the same degree of political awareness as her younger brother, thought she recognised the grinning chap walking just behind the Queen.

“Hi Mr Rowling,” she loudly exclaimed. The grin suddenly vanished, replaced with a steely grimace. “That’s not Mr Rowling, that’s Mr Muldoon,” I swiftly lectured my sister. And clearly the prime minister did not appreciate the misidentification. But I certainly appreciated my fleeting royal encounter.

Fast-forward to the late 1990s and shortly after the death of Princess Diana, I lived in London for several years.

As is the case for many UK-based Kiwis doing their OE, that was when the trappings of royalty and their intimate connection with the fabric of London captivated me.

It was also instructive to see what a colossal visitor puller the British monarchy is for London, with millions of tourists traipsing through the array of palaces, castles and royal points of interest.

Back home in Christchurch, in the wake of our deadly earthquake, it was Prince William’s prompt attendance at the official memorial service several weeks later that reinforced to me the enduring stature, resonance and affection the royal family still commands.

Like a lot of Kiwis, I’ve been struck and surprised by a deeper sense of raw sadness at Her Majesty’s passing than what I envisaged.

Here in London, the past 10 days of official mourning have been awe-inspiring. What a dignified exposition of grand-scale grace, shared sorrow and vintage pageantry. How could you not be moved by the melancholic glory of it all?

The resplendent massing of the military, radiant in their scarlet and gold, complete with processional trimmings of frogging and ruff.

The guns firing in London’s Royal Parks, the brass and percussion, the regimented clip of horses’ hooves and the rhythmic precision of soldiers’ boots have powerfully reverberated across Westminster as the Queen’s coffin has processed.

The relentless muffled beat of the drums doubled like a metronome of grief – all part of the magnificent pomp that only Britain can produce.

Watching the Queen’s children and grandchildren, particularly Charles and Anne, having to ride the unrelenting roller-coaster of ceremonial duties while wrestling with intense personal grief, in full public glare, has been a study in stoicism.

Equally, we will never forget that vast river of humanity calmly winding its way around central London, as if to match the serpentine curves of the Thames.

PM Jacinda Ardern put it so well on the BBC on Sunday, “To see London stand still and to do it so poetically has been very moving.“

That venerable British tradition of queueing has taken on a super-sized life of its own.

So has the monumental security operation, doing its damnedest to safeguard London and her guests, with the biggest ever national mobilisation of police officers guarding the capital.

In what history’s page will record as a funeral for the ages, the globe’s great and good have gathered together for the greatest of them all.

Elizabeth the Great. As the final bell tolls, may Her Majesty rest in peace.