Two years later, the tiny details of that poignant day remain vivid. Princess Charlotte wore a horseshoe brooch on her lapel, a cherished gift from her grandmother. The Queen’s coffin was adorned with sprigs of myrtle, sourced from the same plant that graced her wedding bouquet in 1947.

The hypnotic sway of the sailors’ white caps during the procession contrasted with the rhythmic sound of boots and hooves—like a collective heartbeat. Above, the sky was empty, while Emma, the patient pony, donned one of the Queen’s Hermes scarves, quietly witnessing her owner’s final journey to Windsor Castle.

Distractions emerged amidst the solemnity: Harry’s absence of a uniform despite his active service, and Meghan’s tears, discreetly wiped away by a black glove. Her choice of a black Stella McCartney cape dress added to the day’s somber elegance.

And, of course, Kate, who was dressed immaculately in a razor-sharp Alexander McQueen coat dress, looking solemn yet striking in a Philip Treacy hat and veil and ropes of creamy pearls. Appearing to pretend Meghan did not even exist, she kept a watchful eye on her children and Prince William. Kate knew the day was not about her.

Ultimately, the occasion wasn’t about a tragedy, a life taken too soon. There was none of the visceral sobbing that wracked Princess Diana’s procession in 1997. It was more of a celebration, a pause before something new. It was an acknowledgement of everything the Queen stood for, a chance to show the world that, in the words of Carly Simon, nobody does it better.

The queue for the Queen’s lying in state had, for me, been a revelation. No pushing, no jostling – well, apart from the odd TV presenter. The long line of mourners had been a slow-moving symbol of what it means to be British. The mood was far from maudlin: it was jolly. In my group, people would volunteer to fetch supplies: ‘Oh look, an M&S! What does everyone want? Wine?’ Inside the hall, tears flowed, everyone bowed their heads before emerging shaken, moved. It was the sense of an ending, but also a warm feeling of optimism about what was to come.

That first year, the transition seemed positive and smooth. Charles’s coronation in May last year took place with barely a hitch. He and Camilla, now Queen, have been warmly received on walkabouts.

And then… the Dutch version of a book by Omid Scobie named two so-called ‘royal racists’. The Princess of Wales was forced to apologise for confusion over edits to a ‘manipulated’ Mother’s Day picture. And, of course, Charles and Kate announced their cancer diagnoses within months of one another. Suddenly, the Royal Family seemed depleted, rudderless. Wild speculation about Catherine’s absence from public life earlier this year, before she revealed she had cancer, swirled online, and the Queen’s mantra of ‘never complain, never explain’ seemed as outdated and restricting as a corset.

The Queen would be heartbroken that, having waited so long to wear the Crown, Charles has been rendered so frail so swiftly.

Yet, in a way, her ascendance to the throne at such a young age – she was just 25 in 1952, remember – was a harder cross to bear. She had no real family life, no freedom, no privacy, no room for an opinion, a slip, a hissy fit. When Charles vented his frustration at a leaky pen while signing the visitors’ book at Hillsborough Castle just days after his mother’s death – telling courtiers he ‘can’t bear this bloody thing’ – didn’t we all think: ‘Well, the Queen would never in a million years have done that!’ The Elizabethan age of ‘stiff upper lip’ and uncomplaining service and restraint finally ended in that moment.

In contemplating the current situation with Harry, I believe the Queen would have advised King Charles to give Harry more time during his visit to Buckingham Palace upon learning of his father’s illness. She likely would have urged her son to show generosity, emphasizing that it was not a good look to be ungenerous. Additionally, I imagine she would have advised Prince William to approach Harry with care.

The Queen would have also been concerned about Charles’s recent stance toward Prince Andrew, particularly his push for Andrew to downsize from the Royal Lodge to the vacant Frogmore Cottage. After all, the Queen had made a point of ensuring Andrew was present at Prince Philip’s memorial, demonstrating her commitment to family over duty.

Unafraid of delivering hard truths, the Queen had offered advice to Liz Truss during what would be her final official duty, reminding her to pace herself—a poignant reflection given the current state of affairs. Watching her funeral now, it feels dissonant to hear the reading delivered by our shortest-serving prime minister and the dulcet tones of Huw Edwards, whose reputation has since suffered.

The contrast between our streets today and that crisp autumn day by the Thames, as we approached her coffin, is stark. The Queen would have been deeply saddened by recent tragedies, such as the murder of children in Southport, and her response would have been swift and compassionate. It’s a blessing that she has been spared witnessing the riots fueled by hatred, yet one can only imagine her feeling that her life’s work in building the Commonwealth was under threat. This resonates with a sentiment many families share: “I’m glad Mummy isn’t around to see this.”

The Queen would be dismayed, perhaps, that her generation, the one that built this country, is seemingly being unfairly punished by a new Labour government, though she would, of course, have kept any political opinions to herself. That’s what I miss most: her ability to keep quiet when there is so much unsolicited, ill-informed noise.

But how proud she would be of William and Kate, watching their moving video announcing the Princess’s completion of chemotherapy. She would doubtless have rolled her eyes at the soft-focus, surely made in response to the tyranny of intimacy we all demand these days. But she would have seen herself in Kate – her uncomplaining, straight-backed, stoic lack of self-pity. And I am convinced the late Queen would be comforted that the family, currently so fractured, is in very safe hands.