In Trafalgar Square, there was, it has to be said, a slight sense of disappointment.
As the Queen kicked off her platinum jubilee celebrations with the annual trooping of the colour, the sheer numbers wanting to see the monarch meant thousands were blocked from the parade route.
Gates and access points to the Mall and St James Park were closed off from early morning, leaving many visitors unable to catch a glimpse of the monarch they had come to see.
They gathered instead – all red, white and blue; all picnic baskets and prosecco – under the lions of London’s most famous square.
They wondered why a ticketing system hadn’t been used to control numbers or why the parade route hadn’t – for this 70th anniversary year – been lengthened to allow more people to witness the historic spectacle. Repeatedly, they asked why big screens hadn’t been set up so all those denied closer access could have still watched proceedings.
“They had TVs here [in Trafalgar Square] for the cricket,” said Veronica Davies, dressed as a royal jester. “But they don’t have them for the queen? What’s that about? Outrageous.”
Her friend Sarah Costis-Upton – dressed as Anne of Cleves – pondered this contrast. “Who organised this?” she asked. “Orf with their heads.”
And yet.
On a brilliantly sunny day – a million miles from the pouring rain of the Queen’s coronation in 1953 – the thousands here, of all ages and seemingly from all places, were determined not to let any disappointment ruin the experience.
If they couldn’t exactly enjoy the spectacle – the carriage, the wave, the balcony drama of who stands where – they were determined to revel in the sheer A-grade atmosphere.
“We brought a picnic to have in St James Park,” said Michaela Groves. “Eating coronation chicken sandwiches stood in Trafalgar Square isn’t exactly how I imagined today but we’ll certainly make the most of it.”
The 55-year-old education worker was, she said, an ardent royalist. She’d met Prince Charles after being given an MBE for campaigning around drug driving. Eleven years ago when the Duke and Duchess of Cambridge had married, she and husband Trevor had stayed overnight on the Mall to make sure they got a balcony view.
“It was the coldest most miserable night of my life,” he said today. “So I vetoed that this time.”
They were, in any case, just happy to be soaking the day up. “It’s nice to see so many people united,” said Mrs Groves. “We wouldn’t have missed it.”
Her own reasons for admiring the Queen – the stability, the decorum, the “we’ll meet again” at the start of the coronavirus pandemic – were widely held here. For Cristian Carmona, indeed, it was the very values he felt she symbolised.
He’s originally from Colombia but had lived in London – along with husband Cormac, and several aunts and uncles – for the last 12 years.
“We love England,” the 35-year-old declared. “We love the values and the people, and we wanted to be a part of its history here. We buy into it. We love the Queen. What she has achieved – 70 years – it should be celebrated.”
On the one hand, they wished there had been a longer parade so they might have got to see the 96-year-old. On the other, they had brought tequila, a tub of lemons and enough plastic shot glasses to offer strangers a drink. Which, by 11am, they were already doing.
A good day beckoned. “Oh yes,” said the project manager, raising a drink. “Long live the Queen.”
His aunt Alba Vargas had made a special Union Jack dress for the occasion from an old scarf. “I wanted to look the part,” she declared, and she did.
So too did Matt Horsburgh. Er, sort of.
He’d come as Henry VIII – pants above his tights no less – and, along with the aforementioned Davies and Costis-Upton, had laid down a picnic blanket by a fountain and was tucking into scotch eggs and sausage rolls.
Why had he come? “Because she’s the grandma of the nation,” the 38-year-old PR worker declared. “Although I’m Australian so let’s say the Grandma of the Commonwealth.”
In a rare 2017 interview, the Queen herself said the term platinum had not existed for an anniversary when she was a child. “You weren’t supposed to be around that long,” she said.
It was exactly that longevity that impressed Horsburgh, as well as many others here. “Seventy years?” he said. “It’s forever. It’s another age. No one else will ever do that again. What an achievement.”
His group were continuing the celebrations after by heading to the pub. “It’s what Liz would want,” he declared.
Before that, however, was the flypast. Oh, the flypast.
If those here in Trafalgar Square missed seeing the Queen, they surely had the best view of the RAF helicopters and jets roaring across the sky from 1pm. It was a display of air majesty - Spitfires, Typhoons, Red Arrows - that even an ardent Republican could not have helped but admire.
“Absolutely fantastic,” said Gavin Wybrow, a graphic designer of St Albans as the spectacle came to a close.
Like many here, he and his family – wife Sue and 16-year-old son Frank – had endured an anti-climatic morning after realising they would not get to see the procession.
But the flypast – in which one set of jets flew in a “70” formation – rescued the whole day, they said.
“It was unbelievable,” said Frank. “Absolutely amazing. It’s made up for everything.”
This was the sense of Michaela Groves too. As things came to a close, she pondered the future – one when we no longer live in the second Elizabethan age.
“People have said this will be her last major jubilee,” she said. “But who’s to say she won’t get to 75 years? Why not? We’ll definitely come along again for that.”
