A farewell to the Queen

Aussie walkabout: I was fortunate to be standing with well-wishers who
 presented flowers to the Queen in Perth, West Australia, in April 1988

As the news broke last evening that Queen Elizabeth II had died at 96, I tuned in to the television broadcasts, listening for a few hours to the tributes pouring in and watching the people gathering outside Buckingham Palace and Balmoral Castle.

Then I switched off the TV and went for a walk to clear my head. It was nearing 8pm when I headed out into a twilight world strangely silent and closed. I encountered no traffic nor another soul. In the darkening gloom, grey clouds blanketed the sky and hung like half-lowered veils over the hills. Following a forestry planation track I ventured through the showery nightfall.

Strolling alone with my thoughts, I reflected on what the Queen meant to me and to this country and its people, and to countless millions further afield.

In the firmament of life she created a unique connection for many, a connection that is impossible to adequately explain or describe. She was a steady rock in life - a presence beyond the orb of our own lives, yet also a part of ours. She symbolised a wise relative, albeit one beyond our normal reach. Yet whenever a national crisis occurred or celebration was sparked, she had a way to embody and express this and to reassure.

Until now, the Queen was a constant presence in my life. She had already reigned for 14 years by the time I was born. More than half-a-century has passed since.

I've known her through everyday objects, whether it be her portrait on coins and bank notes or on stamps. Even when living abroad in Australia and Bermuda this was much the same case.

And every year on Christmas Day hearing the Queen's message and knowing that something peaceful and steady would be shared with us all reinforced that special connection.

Magical unicorn: A light-hearted letter I wrote to the Daily News 
in Perth, West Australia ahead of the Queen's visit in April 1988

In this era of modern telecommunications she and her family have been welcomed into our homes, and we have been welcomed into hers, in ways and with a broadness experienced by no other monarch of these isles.

In our lives she have been a steadying presence through thick and thin, happy times and troubled.

I treasure a royal mint coin from the 1977 silver jubilee, one of which was given to each pupil at my junior school. That jubilee, and its memorable street parties, was the first recollection I have of the Queen.

Although we never met, I was twice a spectator in the crowds that greeted her - once in Perth, West Australia in 1988, and again in Bermuda in 2009.

She will be remembered as one of the most extraordinary figures in history, and as monarch who embodied the heart and spirit of this country and her people.

We've laughed and celebrated with her and her family, through the jubilees, weddings, and special events like the London Olympics. I'm especially fond of the playful clip of the Queen alongside Paddington Bear at this year's platinum jubilee. 

And yes, there have been sad times - the death of Princess Diana, and of the Queen's cherished husband Prince Philip, and now her departure.

Last evening as I walked the forestry trail I reflected and processed what she meant to me. 

Your Majesty, Queen Elizabeth ... Lilibet. Thank you for all you have added to life's journey. We shall never forget. Peace.

Below: the video of the Queen with Paddington Bear at this year's platinum jubilee celebration.

Thank you, Captain Sir Tom Moore

People's hero: Captain Sir Tom Moore

"To all those people who are finding it difficult at the moment, the sun will shine on you again, and the clouds will go away," Captain (later Sir) Tom Moore said. "Tomorrow will be a good day."

In the darkest days of the Covid-19 pandemic he emerged as a beacon of light and hope. Captain Sir Tom Moore, as he became once knighted by Queen Elizabeth II last summer, represented the spirt of the nation - and humanity in general - during the great challenge of our time.

It started in April 2020, with much of the world in lockdown as the pandemic spread. Captain Tom captured the hearts of the nation when he set himself a target of walking 100 lengths of the patio at his home to raise 1,000 pounds for charities that support the National Health Service. He aimed to complete his 100 laps, using a stroller, before his then upcoming 100th birthday.

He did it, and in the process gained national prominence and became a rallying point, a symbol for hope, and much more. He had lived and served through the Second World War, and had 100 years of life experience to draw upon. He was also one of us, and reflected and articulated the simple hopes many had but were afraid to utter. When those "sun will shine again" words came from a man of such longevity and worldly-experience, they meant much. 

He achieved his goal of 100 laps, and the public responded. Close to 33 million pounds was raised for the charities supporting the NHS.

Captain Sir Tom died this week, and there is a great feeling of loss. I reflected on what he embodied  as I sat, coincidently, in a place known as "Tom Moore's Jungle" in Bermuda, although it has no connection to Captain Sir Tom.

In a blog post last June, I mentioned Captain Sir Tom as I wrote about the surreal pandemic experience.  His humble humility and spark of belief lifted the hearts of the people in the United Kingdom and far beyond.

I salute you Captain Sir Tom, and I'm thankful to have had you in our midst.