The coffin of Queen Elizabeth II, adorned with a Royal Standard and the Imperial State Crown is pulled by a Gun Carriage of The King's Troop Royal Horse Artillery, during a procession from Buckingham Palace to the Palace of Westminster, in London on September 14, 2022. - Queen Elizabeth II will lie in state in Westminster Hall inside the Palace of Westminster, from Wednesday until a few hours before her funeral on Monday, with huge queues expected to file past her coffin to pay their respects. (Photo by JUSTIN TALLIS / POOL / AFP)
Four billion people. That’s how many people will tune in to watch Queen Elizabeth’s funeral today.
I wasn’t going to be one of them. In fact, I wasn’t going to say anything about the queen at all.
I’ve got nothing against the dear lady, but I didn’t vote for her. Nobody did. Yet when I heard such numbers – 4.1 billion to be precise, or half the world – and that this was to be the biggest event in broadcasting history thanks to the ubiquity of cellphones and streaming, I felt a wave of FOMO.
Sure, she’s not my queen. But she is The Queen.
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Across the world, when The Queen is referenced, everybody knows exactly who is being talked about, and it isn’t Queen Margrethe II of Denmark, the only other queen who is in charge because she was born to it, as opposed to marrying into it. (Yes, yes, please sit down all the drag queens in the back.)
I can’t picture Denmark’s queen, but The Queen? Her face comes to mind as readily as my own mother’s.
My favourite childhood T-shirt was a gift sent from the UK emblazoned with a plasticky crown and the words “The Queen’s Silver Jubilee 1977”.
Prior to today, the world’s biggest television event also centred on British royalty, when 2.5 billion people tuned in to witness Princess Diana’s funeral.
I watched that. Didn’t everyone?
As a kid, I had my first – and last – short haircut ever in an effort to emulate “Lady Di’s” flicked fringe.
I had a beloved frill-collared blouse, just like the ones she wore.
I watched Diana’s wedding to Charles on next door’s TV because ours was black-and-white, and I looked carefully at the gathered nobility’s male offspring, trying to decide which one would be my future prince.
My sister was so committed to the idea that when filling in her My Book About Me (a Dr Seuss spin-off), in answer to the question about what she wanted to be when she grew up, she wrote “The Queen”.
We all knew exactly which queen she meant.
So today is The Queen’s funeral, televised globally.
Like it or not she has been a part of my life, as has her empire, bleeding – sometimes literally – into the very fabric of the world.
Maybe I’ll sneak a peek.
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