The UK is in mourning, officially so, but the word doesn't quite capture the mood on the streets. As the nation farewells its longest serving monarch, grief is mixed with a kind of gaiety.
Standing behind the barricades near the Houses of Parliament, I twice see the new King being driven past, his black Rolls Royce festooned with royal insignia. On both occasions, a rousing and happy cheer comes from the crowd.
Some children are wearing cardboard crowns, brightly decorated. There are Union Jack umbrellas for the adults or T-shirts featuring the Queen's image.
Nearby, in Green Park, there is a carpet of floral tributes. Some mourners wipe away tears as they add their own bouquet, but there are also more whimsical tributes — drawings of Paddington Bear, as featured in the sketch recorded by the Queen for her Platinum Jubilee.
The drawings, or in some cases toy bears, are accompanied by Paddington's favourite food: freshly made marmalade sandwiches, presented in a ziplock bag.
So many sandwiches have been left in Green Park this week that authorities, presumably worried about attracting rats, are begging people to stop.
On television, hosts and reporters adopt a doleful demeanour. That may be appropriate, but it misses the way people in the streets are reacting to the loss of their Queen.
In Edinburgh, there were tears as her coffin was transported along the Royal Mile but also wide smiles of welcome for Charles.
A boisterous rendition of God Save The King erupted outside the cathedral, led by a loyal Scotsman who confessed that he was wearing Union Jack bloomers beneath his kilt.
Yes, there were heavy-handed arrests of some protesters, but more remarkable were army snipers, poised on buildings along the route, who reportedly took time to smile and wave to the crowd.
None of this is meant to imply there is not sadness aplenty; just that it is mixed with something else.
A delight in Elizabeth herself, her character and achievements.
Pride in themselves for being part of this uniquely long reign.
And pleasure in Britain's skill at pageantry, at what you could call "a good send-off".
There will be moments, in coming days, when the grief will overcome the gaiety, when loss will outstrip pleasure and pride.
Monday's funeral will surely be such a time. Yet, built into the monarchy's own traditions, is the plea to move on from grief.
Hence the famous formulation: The King is dead; long live the King.
For King Charles III, the task is to convince his subjects that he can, to some degree, replicate his mother's achievements.
Polls published this week show he's having some success — 63 per cent saying now he'll make a good king, compared to just 39 per cent as recently as March.
Early in the week, I visited Lambeth Bridge where people were beginning to queue in order to see the Queen lying in state at Westminster Hall.
Third in line was an eloquent man who gave his first name as Delroy. Now 61, he'd arrived in Britain from Jamaica at age 14 and regarded the UK as a "land of opportunity".
I asked whether he'd be able to transfer to Charles the loyalty he felt towards the Queen.
"His apprenticeship is at an end now," he said. "He's graduated now. I think he'll be a great king. He's learnt enough over these years from his mum."
The UK is facing headwinds of rising energy prices, soaring inflation and lower real incomes. It has a prime minister who is new at the job, with policies that leave some economists exasperated.
Maybe it's hardly surprising that, in this week of mourning, the people of the UK have found joy in thinking about their Queen.
— Richard Glover presents Drive on ABC Radio Sydney
