It was the little black horse that did it for me.

It was the little black horse that did it for me.

The Queens horse, Emma, standing on the Long Walk at Windsor as the procession went by.

To be honest, the Corgi’s looked like they were waiting for their dinner, wondering what the fuss was all about, but as Emma stood there so visible, so beautiful, I fell apart a bit.

It’s easy to project all sorts of your own sadness and grief onto a moment like this but amidst the pomp, tradition, ritual and symbolism, seeing this beautiful creature that meant so much to the Queen, tapping her hoof as the procession went by was the most humbling moment of the day for me.

And the flowers thrown onto the Hearse…

Again, for all the brilliantly executed ceremony, those roses tossed by the crowds lining the route, before and onto the Hearse was just beautiful.

From the hearts and hands of the people to this magnificent woman on her final journey.

And that’s what it was with this Queen, whatever your views on Monarchy, this woman was loved, and loved so much because she gave so much, redefining and fulfilling her role for decades.

And to another great love of hers…

The Bagpipes, the glorious Bagpipes!

Is there ever a sound so stirring, so emotive as the groan and call of the mighty Bagpipe?

One hundred Pipers echoing down?Whitehall, The Mall and Constitution Hill was one thing but the power of the lone Piper at the service, fading into the thousand year silence of Westminster Abbey was quite another.

And finally the timing of it all.

Two days prior to her death, still fulfilling her role, she turned the political page one last time saying goodbye to one Prime Minister and ushering in a new one.

Her fifteenth no less.

The Queen died in her favourite place, Balmoral, in the heart of Scotland, at the end of her final Summer there.

A rainbow over Buckingham Palace appeared that evening.

The next day she journeyed from Balmoral to Edinburgh to lay at rest before the hearts of the Scottish people she loved so much.

As she made her way from there to her London home, Buckingham Palace, King Charles touched hands and hearts outside the Palace gates, setting the tone for his reign in the most regal and personal manner.

The next day the first sight of the glinting Gun carriage leaving the Palace in glorious sunshine, carrying her coffin draped in the Royal Standard heading to Westminster Hall ignited the queue of all queues…

And David Beckham and thousands of others made their way to see her.

Love you DB ??

And then the day of the funeral, world leaders and Kings & Queens ushered in by bus or Beast.

Little George & Charlotte, front and centre, the global unveiling of the next generation of Royals.

The crystal clear clarity and pitch of the Choir.

The bearers of the coffin carrying the most extraordinary responsibility on such young shoulders with utter perfection and grace, such was the nature of the day.

And one can only imagine how their own mothers felt to see their boys standing so tall, unflinching.

And of course that magnificent lone Piper standing above the congregation, the sound she loved so much, drifting into the past.

The leaves will fall in the next few weeks and winter gloom will soon wrap its damp, soggy arms ‘round the belly of the British soul, but as the doors of Westminster Abbey opened and the coffin bearers came forth with such majesty, the sun broke through and every Green Park London tree stood tall and glorious with full Autumn leaves holding sure for the occasion.

And ancient buildings surrounding the crowds stood firm to behold another Great British chapter ending and a new one beginning.

And the sailors pulled the Queen on the gun carriage to the waiting hearse at Wellington Arch.

And down the A4 leaving London, the place she was born, thousands and thousands lining the way and the throwing of flowers to the great Long Walk of Windsor where toward the castle and the Queen’s final resting place, a little black pony tapped her hoof and capped a perfect moment in time for us all.

From Balmoral to Windsor, all the way, it’s as if she, the Queen, was the one saying thank you.

Saying thank you to the people she loved, saying thank you to the places she loved and of course saying thank you to the little black pony she loved, her dear Emma.

All I can say, from my little corner of the world, is thank YOU Ma’am, for everything.

For seventy years of unflinching service and a day etched into our memories forever.

RIP HM The Queen.

God Save The King.

PB

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