The final goodbye: Scotland bids farewell to Queen Elizabeth II
They came on foot, on horseback, by tractor and by car, gathering on packed pavements, public parks, and front gardens. They congregated in sprawling cities, in sparsely populated villages, and all the spaces inbetween.
They hung from windows and balconies, and stood on bridges and laybys. They waited at service stations and newly harvested fields, and climbed onto roundabouts or the central reservations of busy dual carriageways.
They came, one and all, the young and the old, to say a final goodbye. Some to a neighbour and a friend, but above all, to a Queen. To their queen.
On a sombre and historic day, when feelings of pride vied with a profound sadness, Scotland began to bid farewell to the late Queen Elizabeth II.
Across a journey which spanned 175 miles and lasted more than six hours, tens of thousands of mourners gathered across the east coast of the country to pay their respects as her funeral cortege travelled from Balmoral to the Palace of Holyroodhouse in Edinburgh, where huge crowds spent hours waiting to be part of an era-defining moment in history.
Some along the winding route from Royal Deeside to the capital applauded and cheered. A few threw flowers. Others looked numb, lost even. Many simply looked on in silence, perhaps unsure of how they should, or could, respond to the occasion. After a tumultuous few days unprecedented in modern British history, few could blame them.
Yet if the events since Thursday evening have passed by in a daze, their emotions obscured by a flurry of pageantry and protocol, the first leg of a ceremonial journey that will ultimately end with next Monday’s state funeral brought home their enormity.
On a bright and crisp morning, when all that could be heard was the gentle rush of the Dee, Elizabeth II departed her beloved Balmoral for good, her oak coffin draped in the Royal Standard of Scotland, and topped with a wreath of white heather, dahlias, pine fir, phlox, and her favourite, sweet peas - all cut from the verdant gardens of the home she loved above all others.
That first sight of the coffin, shortly after 10.05am, confirmed the finality of the loss, no matter how expected it had been, no matter the days that have passed since Buckingham Palace’s announcement. In silence, the hearse exited through the gates and passed masses of floral tributes left by well-wishers, followed by Elizabeth II’s daughter, Princess Anne, and her husband, Vice-Admiral Sir Tim Laurence.
So began a journey that was both long and all too short. For 70 years, a woman many regarded as synonymous with the monarchy itself had been visiting Scotland. Now, this was it. The beginning of the end.
The realisation was overwhelming for some, with onlookers seen crying as the cortege passed Crathie Kirk, the small granite church Elizabeth II attended during her summer retreats on Royal Deeside.
They came on foot, on horseback, by tractor and by car, gathering on packed pavements, public parks, and front gardens. They congregated in sprawling cities, in sparsely populated villages, and all the spaces inbetween.
They hung from windows and balconies, and stood on bridges and laybys. They waited at service stations and newly harvested fields, and climbed onto roundabouts or the central reservations of busy dual carriageways.
They came, one and all, the young and the old, to say a final goodbye. Some to a neighbour and a friend, but above all, to a Queen. To their queen.
On a sombre and historic day, when feelings of pride vied with a profound sadness, Scotland began to bid farewell to the late Queen Elizabeth II.
Across a journey which spanned 175 miles and lasted more than six hours, tens of thousands of mourners gathered across the east coast of the country to pay their respects as her funeral cortege travelled from Balmoral to the Palace of Holyroodhouse in Edinburgh, where huge crowds spent hours waiting to be part of an era-defining moment in history.
Some along the winding route from Royal Deeside to the capital applauded and cheered. A few threw flowers. Others looked numb, lost even. Many simply looked on in silence, perhaps unsure of how they should, or could, respond to the occasion. After a tumultuous few days unprecedented in modern British history, few could blame them.
Yet if the events since Thursday evening have passed by in a daze, their emotions obscured by a flurry of pageantry and protocol, the first leg of a ceremonial journey that will ultimately end with next Monday’s state funeral brought home their enormity.
On a bright and crisp morning, when all that could be heard was the gentle rush of the Dee, Elizabeth II departed her beloved Balmoral for good, her oak coffin draped in the Royal Standard of Scotland, and topped with a wreath of white heather, dahlias, pine fir, phlox, and her favourite, sweet peas - all cut from the verdant gardens of the home she loved above all others.
That first sight of the coffin, shortly after 10.05am, confirmed the finality of the loss, no matter how expected it had been, no matter the days that have passed since Buckingham Palace’s announcement. In silence, the hearse exited through the gates and passed masses of floral tributes left by well-wishers, followed by Elizabeth II’s daughter, Princess Anne, and her husband, Vice-Admiral Sir Tim Laurence.
So began a journey that was both long and all too short. For 70 years, a woman many regarded as synonymous with the monarchy itself had been visiting Scotland. Now, this was it. The beginning of the end.
The realisation was overwhelming for some, with onlookers seen crying as the cortege passed Crathie Kirk, the small granite church Elizabeth II attended during her summer retreats on Royal Deeside.
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