LONDON β On morning television, the moment was singularly somber β the departure of the hearse bearing the flag-draped coffin of Queen Elizabeth II. But at the very same hour, as fans in shorts and Ray-Bans streamed into Londonβs Oval stadium for a long-anticipated cricket match, you wouldnβt have guessed the country was preparing for the most royal of funerals.
βI donβt think the Queen would want us to sit at home mourning,β said Natalie McGinn, a 36-year-old business consultant, meeting a friend outside the arenaβs Hobbs Gate. βAlso, at the end of the day, (thereβs) the economy. Things are happening. Weβve got to keep going ... So, yeah, Iβve got to go and grab our tickets now.β
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On most any other week, the fact that people in this city obsessed with fortune, fashion and buzz are pursuing life at full tilt would hardly be noteworthy. But 25 years after many Londoners sobbed openly in the streets after the sudden death of Princess Diana, the boisterous crowds packing pubs and flocking to theaters over the weekend was telling.
For some, particularly younger people, it reflects ambivalence toward the crown. To others, itβs testament to significant differences in the publicβs sense of connection with the 96-year-old monarch and her former daughter-in-law, who was just 36 when she was killed in a Paris car accident in 1997.
And for many, itβs about respecting what they believe the queen herself wouldβve wanted: for everyone to carry on.
βShe was a great go-getter. She wouldnβt have wanted the country to stand still,β said Vanessa White, exiting the Palace Theater in Londonβs West End after taking in an afternoon performance of βHarry Potter and the Cursed Child" with daughter Abi, 16. βA lot of the theaters are just coming out of the pandemic. Youβve got the actors and actresses, they donβt need any more disruptions,β she said.
White and many others make clear that they already miss the queen and speak of her fondly. Indeed, thousands have flocked to the gates of Buckingham Palace in recent days to leave bouquets and notes of affection for Elizabeth. Some there pointed to her lifetime of fortitude as a model for their own lives and described her as a grandmotherly figure. The mourners, though, have been self-selected β those who feel a particularly strong attachment to the queen.
The crowds at Buckingham Palace evoke memories of the days in 1997 that followed Dianaβs death in a car crash in Paris. The publicβs pain then was amplified by the suddenness of the tragedy, the connection people felt to a woman known for her common touch, and identification with her as a mother and sympathy for her two boys.
βShe was 36 and I think people generally related to her,β said David Byrne, 47, a marketing executive heading into the cricket match Sunday. βThe queen was more distant.β
In the week after Dianaβs death, a population known for keeping a stiff upper lip grieved in the most public settings. Mourners poured into central London, laying down a carpet of flowers and other mementos that stretched back hundreds of feet from the gates of Kensington Palace, where the princess had raised her two sons.
Diana, who before her death had been stripped of the designation βHer Royal Highness,β proved βthat she needed no royal title to continue to generate her particular brand of magic,β her brother, Earl Spencer, said in his eulogy.
Reaction to the queenβs death and its limited impact on the cityβs routine feels more muted.
To Joseph Beepath, a 19-year-old student majoring in business management, the tears his mother shed at the news made little sense.
βShe was telling me that now weβre not going to have a queen no more. I couldnβt relate,β said Beepath, gathering with friends outside a restaurant in Londonβs Chinatown Sunday before a birthday lunch. He lamented lack of attention to the fatal shooting of a 24-year-old Black man by London police last week, even as British television devoted hour after hour to covering the long-expected royal death.
βI donβt feel like it makes a difference to me,β his cousin, Kevin McAllister, 18, said of the queenβs passing. βItβs more of a generational thing.β
Even for Londoners his parents' age, the moment can be difficult to figure.
David Smith, an education consultant, noted that after canceling a day of play on Friday, cricket officials had resumed the weekendβs match between England and South Africa by asking fans to observe a period of silence in the queenβs honor. Ordinarily fans would come ready to celebrate, including some who dress as cartoon characters. But with a βmood of national remembranceβ taking hold, the crowd, he said, was rightly acting with decorum.
Still, βit is a weird time,β said Smith, noting the odd juxtaposition of excited fans on train cars seated alongside mourners bound for the palace with flowers.
The fact is that London, with its large immigrant population and people from many backgrounds, is more than ever a place where people follow their own beat. Sitting on a bench outside a coffee shop on Old Camden Street Sunday, friends Fabian Blanco and Claudia Gomez β both from Spain but living and working in London β pondered the cityβs mixed sentiments.
Blanco, 28, a chef, said he is skeptical of the royal family and doubtful about whether the income taxes he pays are going to support them. But he said he respects the sense of tradition embodied by the crown. Still, he canβt quite make sense of the British publicβs reaction to the queenβs death.
βBritish people, they like to be politically correct, like βNo, I can never say anything bad about the queen.β" But at home, he said, they may not be so kind.
As those intent on mourning waited to pay respects at Buckingham Palace, fellow Londoners Riquene Cantilal and Riz Tse decided to give them space. The pair, who work in information technology and have been friends since childhood, meet every few months to catch up, usually in a park adjacent to the palace grounds.
But as the sun dropped toward the horizon, they found a place alongside the pond near the now-quiet Kensington, sipping rum mixed with cola, trading jokes and listening to music.
βItβs a bit like religion,β Tse said of the publicβs relationship to the queen and her family. βEven if you donβt follow it, you kind of respect it because youβve been told to.β
Tse, born in London to parents from Hong Kong, and Cantilal, who hails from a family of Indian descent from Mozambique, say they consider themselves as British as any Londoner. But they say that is not the same as being English, a term they apply to white, native-born residents, who in their view are more likely to feel the queenβs death as a significant loss.
βItβs not like if the queen dies everyone's going to stay at home,β Cantilal said. Tse nodded in agreement.
βI mean, she doesnβt affect me,β he said, βapart from being on a banknote.β
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AP National Writer Adam Geller is on assignment in London covering the queen's death. Follow him on Twitter at http://twitter.com/adgeller