ELIZABETH THE EXTRAORDINARY
IT WAS as if heaven was welcoming her, opening its gates in the most spectacular fashion. Moments after news of her death broke, a double rainbow appeared over Buckingham Palace, arcs of soft light shining above the sprawl of buildings she’d spent so much time in. The palace was where Queen Elizabeth II met prime ministers, princes and presidents, celebrities and scientists, artists and artisans. Where she hosted countless state banquets, signed thousands of papers and went through her famous red boxes, her beloved corgis at her feet.
It’s also home to the famous balcony where, just three months earlier, we’d seen her smiling and waving to throngs of cheering crowds as she celebrated her platinum jubilee. Now she will never appear on that balcony again. The royal standard will never flutter for her again. Her smile, ever warmer in her later years, will live on in memory and pictures but it will never light up a room again.
One of the most remarkable women the world has ever seen is gone, and the loss has been felt around the globe.
Earlier this year, journalist and biographer Tina Brown predicted the queen’s death would be “a seismic event”. “There will be a level of mourning like we’ve never seen,” she said. “The country will have the most enormous national nervous breakdown. The deluge of grief will be extraordinary.”
And she’s been proved right. Mourners started to gather outside the famous
