"Farewell" drabbles by Neville Hunt

...Dateline Tuesday 13 September...

Farewell Ma am #4

Then onwards to London, not by any fancy airliner, but by a transport plane of the Royal Air Force, large enough for Her Majesty’s coffin. When planning the trip, The Queen had approved the mode of transport, saying “If it’s good enough for our boys, it’s good enough for me!”

Arriving in West London, we watched as the coffin, draped in the Queen’s Standard, accompanied by daughter Anne, The Princess Royal, headed for Buckingham Palace for a rest before the next day’s long walk to the Palace of Westminster to lie in state.

But no rest in the TV coverage.

Glued

Farewell Ma am #3

To say my wife is a royalist is a huge understatement. Before we heard the sad news concerning our Queen Elizabeth, there was no chance of getting Mrs H away from the TV coverage... she was glued to it... it was unending.

From the comings and goings at Balmoral before the seemingly inevitable bad news, to the long sad trip following the hearse via Ballater, Banchory and Aberdeen to Edinburgh, where thousands of loyal Scots would pass the royal coffin to pay their respects to our most wonderful Queen, before she headed for London.

But that was just the start...

Majeantry

Farewell Ma am #2

How would I react?... Well that was a fair question, given that Her Majesty had a remarkable resemblance to my own late mother. In fact, every time I saw the Queen, particularly in later years, I saw my mum. On that basis, maybe I should have found it all deeply upsetting because I loved my mum... but no.

If truth be told, we cried a little, we marvelled, we bit our nails, we sang along and felt a chill. And we felt an enormous sense of gratitude... and great pride.

But believe it or not, we had a laugh too!

The long goodbye

Farewell Ma am #1

Today it was the state funeral of our late dear Queen Elizabeth ll. No nation does pomp and pageantry like the British they say. And one could see why.

There were kings, queens, presidents, an emperor and others from around the globe representing billions of people. And it seems like millions were actually there with Her Majesty or lining the routes to pay their respects.

London was closed down for anything but the funeral. Everyone here had a public holiday... except maybe the thousand of soldiers, sailors and airmen and women on duty.

I wasn’t sure how I might react...

Holi-day

Farewell #4

It'd been such a hard slog driving northwest. We were staying overnight and Mrs H's brother Steve was still battling his way from Gatwick. Time for a drink.

We drove to Parkgate, a lovely former port on the Dee estuary. We had our drinks on a terrace looking across to Wales. Driving-embattled Steve finally joined us; we would eat there together.

The weather was glorious and we were perfectly positioned for a sunset of breathtaking beauty. In less than 24 hours our holiday would be over, but there would be much laughter to come....

...oh, and a funeral inbetween.

Overheard

Farewell #3

"It's great that on these occasions you get people together you've known all your life. We can all catch up."

"That's Pat Smith over there in the spotty dress. You know, Pat from the sailing club. Hasn't she lost weight!"

"I've spoken to so many people I've not seen for years."

"What a fantastic spread!"

"Lovely day for it, like Mary!"

"It's amazing how easy it was to get us all together at such short notice."

"That's Mary for you!"

"Pity she can't enjoy her own party!"

"Who says I've not enjoyed it? I've had 4 years to plan it!"

Posh

Farewell #2

We're posh! We must be, it stands to reason, our loos have soft-close seats. To close them you just flick them forwards and slowly they ease their way down onto the porcelain pan. Very easy, very gentle, very..... well, posh!

All my kids are posh too, multiple loos, soft-closing in turn like The Pastoral symphony.

We chose our hotel because the TV ads said how comfortable the beds were... and our bed certainly was. Suitably posh, we thought.

The bathroom was posh enough, and, being a posh gentleman, I lowered the seat for Mrs H. Flick, CLUNK!.... gosh!

Slow...Slow...Quick-Quick (as if!)...Slooooow

Farewell #1

We were heading northwest for a funeral. A four hour journey. Correction, it would have been a four hour journey but was closer to five. First, roadworks on the M1 reduced our speed to 50mph... as if! 50mph would have been luxurious, but when you are crawling, nose to tail, then anything above 10mph is heaven.

Driving on the M6 was relative luxury, but motorways are stress-laden, so the cross country A41 would be a better bet.

But it was tractor drivers' home time... every single tractor.

Then I realised, this was life's training course for following the hearse.