The empty seat

Cartoon by Morten Morland, a Norwegian cartoonist based in the UK

 This cartoon is being shared a lot; it appeared in today's Times. 

 I think it strikes a chord on many levels (which is actually what a chord is, isn't it?).

Those of us who watched the State Funeral today (and we couldn't resist) had an opportunity: to see beyond the pageantry, symbolism, and sentiment.

We feel a loss, but it's more than a seemingly omnipresent and immortal Queen.  It's a way of life, and a way of seeing things, which, however myopic, was something taken for granted.

Many of us looked over to a chair, and realised, probably not for the first time, that a flawed, maddening, but beloved person no longer was sitting there.  Perhaps we thought:  Oh s/he would have loved/hated this.

I was lucky today.  I escorted Demeter from her apartment to watch bits and pieces of the ceremonies.  We drank tea, of course. Afterwards, we discussed which members of the Royal Family we'd seen over the years.  (They come to Canada quite a bit.)

And I realised that my very British mother actually only lived in England for about a decade, if you include her first year of life, and home furloughs from Kenya.

Then I escorted her home, and went for a walk in the sunset.

It seemed appropriate.

Alignment

I was going to avoid mentioning the upcoming royal funeral until it actually happens next Monday.  More than enough is being mentioned already.

However, we are all British descendants in our house, and elder daughter lives in the UK, so naturally, we've been tuning into the death festival that's been taking place for the last week.  

Yesterday, while searching for YouTube recordings to show Demeter, who has no internet, I stumbled across the continuous live streaming of the Great British public (plus a large number of tourists) making their steady way in two lines past the Queen's coffin, which is lying in state at Westminster Hall.

It's oddly compelling viewing.  These are people who have waited for hours and hours for the privilege of a moment's pause to bow, genuflect, namaste, or whatever, before trotting back to their lives.  I'm astounded to see some people have brought strollers, or ambulant young children.

Yesterday evening, I discovered there's a "Queue-Tracker" on YouTube.  At that point, the Queue (capitalised, like the Queue at Wimbledon) was two and a half miles long, stretching back to Southwark Bridge on the South Bank of the Thames.

This morning, when I arose, it was 4.2 miles long, and I've just checked, it's 4.9 miles long.  My understanding is that the "cut-off" point is five miles, when, so the Twitter wags suggest, a queue will then be formed for the Queue.

A popular thread on Twitter declares that this Queue is performance art.  It's certainly bonkers, but like a road accident, I can't look away.