OPINION: In London for pivotal royal events more than 20 years apart - the deaths of Princess Diana and Her Majesty the Queen - Helen Speirs finds it hard to believe another extraordinary outpouring of grief heralds the end of the monarchy.
As the giant London Eye turned slowly above central London, across the River Thames from the Palace of Westminster, home to the Houses of Parliament, the official plea went out to mourners this week to bring no more Paddington bears or marmalade sandwiches.
But there was no keeping away the constant stream of people making their way slowly, silently, solemnly up The Mall, past the imposing black and gold gates of St James's Park towards Buckingham Palace, where the flag flies at half mast to pay tribute to their late Queen, Elizabeth II.
In still-verdant Green Park, with the first autumn leaves crunching underfoot but grass refreshed after much-needed rain, a sea of fragrant flowers lies. Dotted among the floral tributes are teapots and teddies, corgis and crowns, balloons and Union Jacks, hand-drawn pictures of rainbows, framed photos of a much-loved monarch, letters, notes and cards.
"Thank you for your service. We love you like you are part of our family," one child's contribution reads.
"Thank you ma'am. You did us all proud," reads another.
"Forever our Queen."
The messages are united in their sentiments. They offer condolences to the royal family; convey sorrow, gratitude, respect, love and affection; support to the Queen's successor, King Charles III. The quiet and reflective conversations I overhear are in a similar vein. More than one person mentions what I am also recalling, the powerful smell of the sea of flowers after Princess Diana's death in 1997. The shock, sadness, loss and emptiness.
I remember being amazed by the outpouring of grief after Diana's death. At the time I was living and working a stone's throw from Kensington Palace, where you could smell the mountain of flowers even from afar, where thousands wandered in tears and anguish, public displays of emotion I found totally at odds with the supposed British stiff upper lip.
This time it is the same - and different. There is still - surprisingly - an element of shock and unreality, but not the anger that accompanied Diana's death. There is acknowledgment the Queen died peacefully, at a place she loved dearly, at the end of a long full life. That removes some of the sorrow, although the solemnity remains. There is space for quiet reflection, respect, gratitude, solidarity.
There is little sign here - nor at Windsor, Balmoral, Holyroodhouse, Hillsborough Castle and elsewhere where similar floral tributes have been piling up - of the monarchy being an anachronism.
Instead, media coverage is 24/7. Transport hubs, billboards, shops and websites all carry messages of condolences to the royal family. Conversations are of little else, and if the crowds are anything to go by, millions of people are in mourning.
The scenes continue to be extraordinary: the crowds who have flocked to offer condolences and support to the new King on his tour of the Union; the crowds lining the streets, lane upon lane of motorway traffic at a standstill, a grieving and respectful public paying tribute, helping guide the Queen's coffin as it made its way from Balmoral south. A line of people snaked its way for five miles (8km) across the Thames, through central London, before entry was stopped for six hours, as it had reached capacity by Friday morning UK time. These people are queuing for hours, days, overnight, through the rain, to file past the Queen, now lying in state, paying their last respects, visible to all on a live stream.
They have come in wheelchairs, pushed in buggies, the very young, the very old, alone and in groups, from around the UK, the Commonwealth and the world. Some are tourists already here, some have flown in especially. Some are servicemen and women in uniform, some mourners are in formal attire, others in jeans and trainers. They salute. Curtsy. Bow. Cross themselves. Stand respectfully. In tears. With reverence. The absolute hush in almost all settings is uncanny. It is impossible not to be moved.
Is this a monarchy outdated, irrelevant and reduced to mere symbolism? If so, don't underestimate symbolism - the power of a rainbow, the significance of the Queen's death in Scotland, let alone centuries of ceremony, ritual and tradition. But symbolism alone? Duty. Service. Loyalty. Leadership. Compassion. Respect. Dignity. Grace. All are in the public conversation at the moment.
As society here, as in New Zealand, becomes increasingly secular, friends have told me they are pleased to see so many people proudly wearing crosses, their joy that "faith" is a part of the national conversation, that what is occurring is something "sacred".
The sense of loss is profound and certainly personal - if Diana was the "People's Princess", the notes left by mourners make clear the Queen was their "mother, grandmother and great-grandmother" - but the Crown still holds power and meaning for many. There is relief and comfort in Charles' ascension, an assurance of calm, order and continuity, a "grandfatherly" hand on the tiller.
If there is a time for the institution that is the British monarchy to die, that season does not appear to be now. Yes, there are voices of dissent, but they have been drowned out in the past few extraordinary days by an overwhelming tide of public affection. The public response is unscripted and genuine.
It may not be rational to hold onto a costly, unwieldy, archaic institution, with all the uncomfortable shadows of imperialism - particularly thousands of miles away in the far-flung reaches of the Commonwealth - but don't discount the role of emotion in public opinion.
And then there is the intertwining of military history, religion, politics, law, architecture, arts and literature across centuries.
The Queen ascended the throne at a time of great loss and despair, change and uncertainty, and her reign provided a beacon of light, annus horribilis - or several - aside. At a time of global uncertainty, post pandemic, post Brexit, with a war in Europe, and democracy under siege, there is no lesser need for unity and stability.
Are the mammoth crowds here queuing only to witness the passing of the second Elizabethan age? To pay respects to an individual soon to be forgotten?
It feels like we are bearing witness to something bigger than the sum of its parts. For now at least, I am convinced The Crown has retained its allure - and could yet gain more lustre. That may be the Queen's legacy.
* Helen Speirs is a production journalist for NZME, currently in the UK.
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