We're all waving flags now
Jun. 3rd, 2012 08:59 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
brixtonbroodTiny is mad about boats. Today, a thousand boats were going down the Thames to celebrate HRH's 60 years on the throne. This was only going to end one way...
Early in the morning, we tried to do mental arithmetic, spreading the expected million people along ten miles of riverbank, and winding up with around fifty people per metre, which wasn't encouraging. Then we checked the live traffic cams on TfL (cunning, eh?), which was rather less help than we'd hoped. We'd already heard about people camping out near Tower Bridge in order to reserve a good spot, but surely it wouldn't be like that everywhere...
Eventually we decided to have an early lunch of bacon sarnies all round, and then go to Vauxhall and find somewhere with a river view near there. When we got off the bus at Vauxhall's whizzy new bus station, it was clear that we'd come rather late. Vauxhall Bridge was heaving, the pavement going past the MI6 building had as many people coming down it as were going up it, things were busy. Ah well, we walked upriver a bit, and found a patch of rather damp grass opposite from and upstream of Millbank. Not very promising, but it sloped down to the river wall, so the late-comers could still see over the people at the front.
And we waited. We had got there at about 1pm, with the crowd already ten-deep at the wall. The boats were due to start coming past at about 3.15pm. The books we'd brought were all finished by 2pm, and the children had already started fighting about who would get to sit on the backpack (and, as result, crush the peanut butter sandwiches into a solid beige lump), and who would have to sit on the ground. For a long time, Small sat on my feet like a penguin chick.
We waited for the cheers to tell us that the flotilla was coming. Most of the cheering turned out to be Mexican waves (she's not the Queen of Mexico, you morons, stop bloody doing that, or at least jump into the Thames and have the good grace to drown after you've done it.) Everyone got more tired, and more bored, and more fractious.
What eventually told us that the boats were coming was that everyone in front of us started holding up their cameras and smart-phones and pointing them upriver and clicking away. This was our cue to hoist the smalls onto our shoulders. It was also the cue for everyone on front of us to do the same, which meant that the children in the crowd could see the boats, and none of the adults could see a damn thing. All of the children had their little union jacks, and waved and cheered and shouted. And the Queen came past on a boat.
And after that, half the crowd left, and it stated to spit with rain. We took the opportunity to get closer to the front, and we got a good view of the back half of the pageant, from under an umbrella as the rain got heavier. More and more people drifted away, and for the last hundred or so boats, we were leaning on the river wall, getting wetter and wetter (although the golfing umbrella from work was worth its weight in gold). But Tiny was unbelievably happy and excited to be seeing all the boats, and Small went off and climbed a tree with a gang of pre-teens which was very much her idea of fun. And we waited until the very end, when the Ducks slid down the ramps by the MI6 building, and the London Philharmonic came up behind them at the very end of the procession playing the James Bond theme, and then Jerusalem, sung by a heroically soggy choir. At which point we decided that the day had been well and truly rounded off, so we set off home - on foot, since the queues for buses and tubes at Vauxhall were No Fun At All. Walking home in the pissing rain was not much fun, but it left space on the buses for other people.
But in 75 years time, Small and Tiny will tell their grandchildren about the time they stood in the rain, and waved their flags, and almost saw the Queen.
Early in the morning, we tried to do mental arithmetic, spreading the expected million people along ten miles of riverbank, and winding up with around fifty people per metre, which wasn't encouraging. Then we checked the live traffic cams on TfL (cunning, eh?), which was rather less help than we'd hoped. We'd already heard about people camping out near Tower Bridge in order to reserve a good spot, but surely it wouldn't be like that everywhere...
Eventually we decided to have an early lunch of bacon sarnies all round, and then go to Vauxhall and find somewhere with a river view near there. When we got off the bus at Vauxhall's whizzy new bus station, it was clear that we'd come rather late. Vauxhall Bridge was heaving, the pavement going past the MI6 building had as many people coming down it as were going up it, things were busy. Ah well, we walked upriver a bit, and found a patch of rather damp grass opposite from and upstream of Millbank. Not very promising, but it sloped down to the river wall, so the late-comers could still see over the people at the front.
And we waited. We had got there at about 1pm, with the crowd already ten-deep at the wall. The boats were due to start coming past at about 3.15pm. The books we'd brought were all finished by 2pm, and the children had already started fighting about who would get to sit on the backpack (and, as result, crush the peanut butter sandwiches into a solid beige lump), and who would have to sit on the ground. For a long time, Small sat on my feet like a penguin chick.
We waited for the cheers to tell us that the flotilla was coming. Most of the cheering turned out to be Mexican waves (she's not the Queen of Mexico, you morons, stop bloody doing that, or at least jump into the Thames and have the good grace to drown after you've done it.) Everyone got more tired, and more bored, and more fractious.
What eventually told us that the boats were coming was that everyone in front of us started holding up their cameras and smart-phones and pointing them upriver and clicking away. This was our cue to hoist the smalls onto our shoulders. It was also the cue for everyone on front of us to do the same, which meant that the children in the crowd could see the boats, and none of the adults could see a damn thing. All of the children had their little union jacks, and waved and cheered and shouted. And the Queen came past on a boat.
And after that, half the crowd left, and it stated to spit with rain. We took the opportunity to get closer to the front, and we got a good view of the back half of the pageant, from under an umbrella as the rain got heavier. More and more people drifted away, and for the last hundred or so boats, we were leaning on the river wall, getting wetter and wetter (although the golfing umbrella from work was worth its weight in gold). But Tiny was unbelievably happy and excited to be seeing all the boats, and Small went off and climbed a tree with a gang of pre-teens which was very much her idea of fun. And we waited until the very end, when the Ducks slid down the ramps by the MI6 building, and the London Philharmonic came up behind them at the very end of the procession playing the James Bond theme, and then Jerusalem, sung by a heroically soggy choir. At which point we decided that the day had been well and truly rounded off, so we set off home - on foot, since the queues for buses and tubes at Vauxhall were No Fun At All. Walking home in the pissing rain was not much fun, but it left space on the buses for other people.
But in 75 years time, Small and Tiny will tell their grandchildren about the time they stood in the rain, and waved their flags, and almost saw the Queen.
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Date: 2012-06-04 07:26 am (UTC)But it beats sitting on a bus, still wet and now cold. And once you're wet, you can't get any wetter. And it's a good walk to do now and again (although preferably in the dry, I'll admit).
Glad you got to see some boats and had a good time despite the rain.