Fortune favours the bold. And, to my relief, not only is the temperature pretty clement (around 21 degrees) but there’s no rain (the enemy of anyone in an outside queue). We all head west, in the direction of Tower Bridge, which doesn’t take more than 20 minutes at regular walking speed.
Then we hit the ‘zigzag’ area (similar to the lines you stand in at the airport, before you reach the x-ray machines) and this takes quite a while. Actually, this is the hardest part of queuing - shuffling along slowly or just standing still! It’s much easier to keep moving - for obvious reasons - but this is the way it’s been organised and - in true British style - no-one argues.
Looking out over the Thames, I gaze at all the skyscrapers north of the river (the Walky Talky building really stands out at this angle) and my mind is cast back to when I was a child and, walking along these footpaths, and the skyline was clear.
Chatting to Mark (the architect) and George (his son), we realise that we’re going to be ‘marking’ the walk in terms of the bridges we pass. Every one we walk by will be another landmark in our journey.
At Borough Market, it’s time for my first stop for the loo - I step out of line and head towards the food cart areas, where there’s bound to be a toilet sign. Thrilled to find something clean and sanitised, I gratefully use it then purchase a bottle of lemonade afterwards - vitamins and energy Then I have to rejoin my gang, which is harder than it looks. (As the day continues, I will start to recognise people behind and in front of us, their distinctive jackets, hairstyles, voices, etc).
Even better, our group has George in it and - as well as his bright blue parka - he’s got an infectious smile. I don’t know it at this point but, in a couple of hours time, when the queue bottlenecks and we have a few minutes to lean against the stone pillars by the river, he’s going to start teaching me Sudoku!
By now, I’m feeling a bit peckish and reach into my bag for a snack. Everyone else around me is doing the same and we share all our food - it’s a ‘moving picnic’. We’re all talking about how we made it to Southwark Park this morning and, to my amazement, I find out that I’m the one that had the easiest journey. My fellow queuers have come from Ipswich, Cheltenham and Gloucester - they all awoke in the middle of the night and either drove or caught National Express buses to south London.
I am truly in awe of their dedication to this cause. But then, as we discuss, the Queen was dedicated to her job for seventy years and so what’s a day out of all of our lives, if it means showing some respect.
And then, something that really warms my heart happens. Half an hour ago, I’d seen a delivery guy from the Franco Manca chain handing out boxes of free pizzas to people behind us in the queue. Disappointed that we weren’t in the right spot, I’d forgotten about it. But now there’s a tap on my shoulder and it’s the guy I’d chatted with earlier, standing by me.
“They brought more pizzas out and I wanted to find you and your friends” he tells me. An enormous smile breaks out on my face - not only is pizza my favourite food, but the fact that he’s come searching for me is really an indication of how good-natured and kind everyone is in this queue. I thank him and open the box - it’s a delicious margherita, cut into eight slices. And, as luck would have it, we are eight in our group.
Fortune, indeed, favours the bold.