There was extreme pomp and pageantry, but behind the set-dressing, the pressed lips and supportive smiles were familiar
Here we are, then. It is not often you can say you witnessed the end of an era. But by definition, the second Elizabethan age is over. Catafalque gives way to carriage, medieval hall to medieval chapel, public service to private rest.
The manufactured controversy-froth (celebrity queue-jumping, holiday camps turfing guests out for the day, whether Harry could wear his uniform, whether Paddington iconography could be grafted on to the pageantry of centuries) has dispersed and reality has emerged. A reality minutely managed and meticulously planned for, but here nevertheless.
