Shivering in damp clothes at 3am as rain pounds on my poncho, I begin to wonder if I’ll actually manage to make it through the night
It’s been pouring down for hours, my backside is numb on the cold concrete and my socks are sodden in my shoes.
Yet there are still at least 17 hours to go before this queue is even due to start moving.
Yesterday I joined the very first Royalist pilgrims who have come to see the Queen lying in state in Westminster.
Over the next four days almost a million people are expected to file past her coffin and pay their respects. And I’m number 34, after arriving a full 24 hours before the doors opened.
But that meant spending a long, cold, wet night waiting in line...
Follow the latest updates on today's events in our Royal live blog
5pm
The queue is only a few dozen people - and I receive a warm welcome. Everyone seems excited - despite the 24 hours we’ll be in line
There’s quick camaraderie - we’re soon chatting, sharing stories and calling each other by our queue number.
Numbers 35 and 36, Steven Tanzer, 61 and his wife Nancy Judson, 60, are from Connecticut, in the US, and bought a last minute flight to London.
“My mother loved the Queen, and she passed away five years ago”, says Nancy. “We love British history. I knew we just had to come.”
6pm
My fellow queuers are in two camps - the ultra prepared, with sleeping bags, tents and even cooking stoves, and those, like me, with a tough night ahead.
Jason, no 32, has just the clothes on his back. He had been visiting the floral tributes in Green Park when he “felt compelled” to join the queue.
7pm
Darkness fall. Nos 39 and 40 - Rob and Mo Haige, from Ugley, Essex, queued on the spur of the moment.
Rob, 65, says: “I’d started pressure-washing the patio, when Maureen rushed out and said, ‘We’re going!’ And that was that.”
“I’m a real royalist,” adds Mo, 67, excitedly. “I’ve always loved the Queen.”
8pm
The drizzle is not dampening spirits but is soaking my jacket. Steven gets a six pack of beers to share. Someone else passes out a pizza delivery.
Mark Gater - no 32 - has had a few beers and is starting to get emotional. “It’s absolutely wonderful to be here, it’s such a lovely atmosphere,” says the restauranteur from Cranbourne, Dorset.
“But tomorrow all that’s going to change, we’re going to be floored by grief when we see her.”
9pm
Now it’s downpour. My cheap poncho and souvenir shop Union Jack umbrella doesn’t stop the rain from dripping down my legs and feet, and before long my socks are sopping.
The well-prepared queuers get out their waterproofs, sleeping bags and thermals. I console myself that at least I’m not suffering as much as Jason, who just has a tiny umbrella and is drenched.
10pm
A gap in the rainf raises spirits, and an impromptu rendition of ‘God Save The King’. Nearby TV crews rush over asking for a repeat. We sing it again for the BBC.
Linda Wright, 72, who’s come from Birchington-on-Sea, Kent,says she once saw the Queen and Prince Phillip hiding in a car stuck in a traffic jam in High Holborn 30 years ago. “They we’re both giggling,” she says. “They knew they’d been spotted.”
11pm
It’s pouring again. Sam Trunter, 40, and her son Ethan, 18, from Birmingham, bunk down in sleeping bags with an extra lawyer of plastic bag.
Sam, who left her husband and two younger children at home, says: “I felt the need to be here. She did an amazing job, so dedicated to her people. Sitting in the pouring rain for a few hours is nothing in comparison.”
Midnight
Only the rain breaks the silence in the queue as the rain. We’re huddled inside waterproofs or under umbrellas. Mark offers Jason half of his mat and he can hardly contain his gratitude.
1am
The rain suddenly stops. People emerge from their waterproof cocoons. “You see, that was Her Majesty working her magic,” exclaims Mo, to murmurs of agreement.
2am
The rain starts again, this time wetter and colder, and we retreat into our silent hells again.
3am
Most of my clothes are wet, I’m shivering with cold, and seriously wondering if I’ll be able to make it. The next two hours seem to pass like an eternity.
5am
Daylight finally arrives, the rain stops. Sam is boasting about how she slept for two hours. As well as the Queen, we Brits love queues and complaining about the weather, so everyone has a lot to talk about. The feeling we all survived an unpleasant wet night has brought us closer together.
6am
Mark is cooking a tin of all-day breakfast on his portable stove. Others have discovered a Costa coffee inside nearby St Thomas’ hospital. I go myself, drying my clothes by the toilet hand dryer, as someone saves my place.
7am
Mmany are reflecting on the day ahead. “I’m going to cry my eyes out,” says Linda. “The Queen was in the ATS (Auxiliary Territorial Service), and so was my mum. That’s where the emotion is coming from, it’s like she was the last link to mum.”
9am
People with ‘Faith Team’ on their T-shirts are milling around the queue. One of them, Rev David Bell tells me: “Many people don’t know how they are going to react when they see the coffin. If anyone asks we are able and very happy to pray with them.”
10am
The queue now numbers 2,000. Poignantly it stretches back past the Covid memorial wall, with a heart for every life lost in the pandemic. Stewards distribute yellow wristbands to all of us, meaning we’ll be first to see the Queen lying in state in England.
11am
Rob and Mo are planning what they’re going to do before the Queen’s coffin. “I’m going to curtsy,” says Mo. “I wish I’d come in a pretty dress. I can show how much I respect and admire her.” Rob is going to bow, “t’s going to be overwhelming.”
12pm
Glyn Norris, 63, from Loughton, Essex, is also thinking about entering the Hall.
“It’s almost like having your own private audience with her, in spirit. She was the mother and grandmother I never met, a constant in my life.”
A chorus of God Save The Queen ripples through the crowd as people start to watch the Queen’s coffin leaving Buckingham Palace on their phones at 2.22.
3pm
I’m flagging now after 22 hours. But soon, stewards start calling us forward and for the first time since 5pm yesterday we are on the move. We walk over Lambeth Bridge and into Victoria Gardens on the side of the Houses of Parliament.
4pm
In a sobre mood we walk slowly towards the Houses of Parliament. We are the first group being taken to see the Queen. Through airport-style security, then we pause outside the entrance of Westminster Hall. This next 30 minutes is the longest wait of all. “My heart’s palpitating,” whispers Mo as we are ushered inside.
5pm
As I enter the hall, there’s a sense of being a part of a moment of history that will never be forgotten. But what chokes me up is seeing a young girl curtsy then wave the Queen a childlike goodbye. It’s been a tough, long 24 hours, but worth it.
