Mail reporter ALESIA FIDDLER remembers tenting out for Queen’s funeral

Bundled in a sleeping bag and sitting on a deck chair on The Mall, I was determined to have a front row view of what would be a historic but deeply sad moment.

It was the night before the funeral of Queen Elizabeth II, and my mother and I – along with hundreds of others – were camping out on the iconic road leading to Buckingham Palace.

The passing by of her funeral procession, which would include royals led by her son King Charles, was a moment we wanted to experience first-hand, so we could properly pay our respects to the Queen who had served our country for most of her life.

Securing a spot near the corner that leads to Horse Guards Road, we prepared to brave the night with only fold-up deck chairs, sleeping bags, blankets and a thick coat.

It was a rushed decision, as the weekend had coincided with me moving to London for university.

We had to choose between joining the long queue to see the Queen lying in state in Westminster Hall, or head to The Mall.

Either choice meant dedicating hours to being outside in the cold, but we intended to pay tribute in some way. 

Only a few months earlier, we had been among hundreds of thousands of people who lined the streets of London for the Queen’s Platinum Jubilee celebrations, and now we wanted to say goodbye.

The day before, we had laid flowers at St James’s Park, where I was hugely moved by the messages people – among them young children – had left.

At the gates of Buckingham Palace someone had placed myrtle between the railings – a subtle nod to the Queen’s wedding bouquet.

It was heartwarming to see the way the nation had come together for the late monarch one final time.

The Mall had its own sense of unity. It was unarguably a solemn occasion but the atmosphere on the half-a-mile-long road down to Buckingham Palace felt special.

Everyone was there for the same reason; bonded together in a sense of patriotic unity. 

Union Jacks of varying sizes were dotted around and people excitedly chatted to one another.

Many had never met before and my mother and I soon started talking with two women who were sitting beside us in a similar set up of camping chairs and blankets.

As the evening drew in and the sun began to set over Buckingham Palace, we were faced with the challenge of finding a meal. 

Given that it was a chilly September night, we wanted something warm.

I left my mother to guard the chairs while I ventured to various pubs around Trafalgar Square to try and secure pie and mash in a takeaway box.

It was admittedly an ambitious choice, but the very British combo was what we both fancied.

The pubs were heaving and, after several slightly frazzled waiters told me, ‘No, sorry’, I instead returned to The Mall with McDonald’s.

Toilets were another battle we had to tackle. 

Fortunately, there were portable toilets, but given the number of people who were either passing by or had also set up camp, there was often a queue to use them.

Later in the evening, after we had wolfed down our burgers and chips, I spotted an elderly man walking down The Mall. 

The intriguing figure in a long coat was purposefully holding a piece of paper. 

He had caught my interest, so we walked over to see what he was doing.

To everyone’s delight, the man read a poem he had written about the late Queen’s 70-year reign. 

In a fitting tribute, he spoke of her ‘long devoted service’ and how she was ‘that oyster pearl who reigned along at 90 at the pace of a teenage girl’.

Afterwards, he encouraged everyone to sing the National Anthem.

It was the kind of situation that you would only find yourself in at 10pm on The Mall, the night before the Queen’s funeral. 

Getting sleep proved to be tricky, in large part due to the fact that we were sitting next to one of the bright street lamps that lined the road leading to Buckingham Palace.

There was also the quiet but constant buzz of conversation between other campers to contend with.

I rather unsuccessfully attempted to get some rest by putting a blanket over my head, but soon the noise of policemen and women taking their positions and metal railings scraping along the floor invaded everyone’s consciousness.

Throughout the morning, more people piled onto The Mall and it was soon packed full.

Like my Mum and me, they were all waiting patiently to pay their respects to the Queen one final time.  

At around 12.45pm, the Queen’s funeral procession eventually marched around the corner of Horse Guards Road and onto The Mall.

Despite there being thousands of people standing trying to catch a glimpse of the State Gun Carriage bearing Queen Elizabeth’s coffin, silence fell as it passed by.

The only significant sounds were the thud of members of the Naval Ratings marching in a well-practised unison and the turning wheels of the carriage.

I watched in awe as the late monarch’s coffin passed by just a few feet away from where we were standing. 

The three officers on guard directly in front of the barrier stood to attention and saluted.

Seeing the Imperial State Crown, Orb and Sceptre placed poignantly on the top was a deeply touching moment.

It felt as though everyone was holding their breath as the carriage went by. One woman to my left threw a bunch of Carnations onto the road in a personal tribute.

There were tears everywhere.  

I watched the Queen’s children – King Charles, Princess Anne, Prince Andrew and Prince Edward – follow her coffin, all solemnly looking forwards.

Behind them, her grandsons, Prince William, Prince Harry and Peter Phillips, also walked while cars carrying the other family members slowly drove by.

It was a surreal but deeply moving moment that I will never forget.