Not as Expected

Friday 23rd September 2022

Last week I said that by now the tide would have washed over these days. It hasn’t. One is left shattered, trembling and afraid. Monday’s ceremonies carried Her Late Majesty into myth but there was nothing misty, nostalgic or evasive about the funeral service lasting the best part of six hours, culminating in the devastating Committal at Windsor. ‘The Day Thou Gavest, Lord, is Ended/The Darkness falls at Thy Behest.’ ¬†Quite so. Death, its solemn thunder. Final and unavoidable. This was Queen Elizabeth 11’s last note to her people, a strange one. She planned it like this. At the heart of the life of the Nation were placed the profundities of existence, the stark reminder of what we all come to. So the Crown, Orb and Sceptre were removed from the coffin (‘How dare they!’ Royston said) which was then lowered into the vault, to lie nearby confined through all eternity.

I can’t believe She’s gone. Already in the tomb. Royston briefed me on Tuesday morning. We must look to the new reign. We must fight for the Crown. People like us can do much. Sophisticated arguments are called for, he said. Well, I can only think of a simple one: why do people care? How do you argue with that, unless to say that people are fools or deluded which would be outrageously patronising?


Posted Friday, September 23, 2022 under Adrian Edge day by day.

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