May 6th, long awaited day for the British. But also long. Very long. At six in the morning the doors were opened for all who wanted to enter The Mall, the wide avenue where several hundred British (and some clueless tourists) had camped for almost a week before. By seven, it was packed. At 0930, the accesses from the adjacent streets or from Trafalgar were already closed to stragglers who wanted to see something of the procession that would take Charles III of England and his wife, Camilla, from Buckingham Palace to Westminster Abbey. There they would become, eight months minus two days after their proclamation, crowned kings of the United Kingdom.
Just as it happened to his mother, Isabel II, that June 6, 1953, in which she traveled the same route (although on a much longer path) on her golden carriage, the rain has been Carlos’s companion. Also of the thousands of compatriots who have taken to the streets to see the festivities, especially on the screens placed in various parks in the city, such as Saint James, next to the palace. There they have taken out their picnic blankets, first, and their raincoats with the colors of the flag later, to survive a day of intense downpours combined with moments of softer water. But the point is that the rain has not stopped for practically a moment since before the king left the palace for his great moment and until his return.
A young couple gave their two children tea from a large black thermos. “Mommy, it’s just that I don’t see anything at all,” complained the eldest, who barely raised a meter off the ground. “Don’t worry, the important thing is not to see them; It is the environment, the people, everything, ”his mother answered. “And that you will remember this day all your life”, a third woman replied to the little boy, who looked with wide eyes, not understanding anything while his mother nodded in agreement. Babies and children were regulars on the lawns of London parks, as were large groups of friends wearing plastic or crocheted crowns, couples sheltering from the rain, families toasting with bottles of champagne in cardboard cups emblazoned with the flag of the Kingdom. United… All combinations were possible, the case was to celebrate.
As the ceremony progressed, the air grew wetter and wetter, and the parks emptied, but those who stayed were clear that they wanted to be there. If the first god save the king (God save the king) were rather shy among those present, when the Archbishop of Canterbury has placed the crown of Saint Edward on the head of King Charles, the meadow of Saint James has broken in cheers for their monarch. The public has also applauded the moments in which Guillermo, his eldest son, has paid homage to him as a gentleman, kneeling before him, as well as the appearance in the foreground of his heir, Jorge, who has aroused a resounding sigh. Camila, both at her entrance to the abbey and especially when the crown of Queen Mary of Teck has rested on her, has been the other star of the day. Those who have not aroused any kind of animosity, neither for better nor for worse, have been Enrique and Andrés, Carlos’s son and brother, absolutely discreet at the ceremony and among the public. Some stone guests for Carlos and also for the town.
The coronation is not a normal party. To begin with, because the last one took place exactly 70 years ago minus one month, and few of those present lived through it. To continue, because it has a festive component, yes, but above all state, political and religious that goes beyond a Jubilee, which are the last celebrations that the British are used to. Hence, the two hours of the liturgy have also been serene for those gathered who, in general, have stood up for the most solemn moments, and who crossed themselves or released an “amen” for the shirt collar. But when the crown arrived, the departure from Westminster and the procession back, it was all joy. The rain, which had already drenched everyone, from security employees to journalists, was just one more.
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It was May and it was becoming August. The Union Jack, present everywhere, in hundreds of shops in souvenirs officious with their banners and mugs from Carlos and the rest of the Windsors (including Diana). In the official store, located on the side of Buckingham Palace, key rings were sold for seven euros, cups for 34 and even a bottle of sparkling white wine for 51 (whoever wanted to accompany it with two glasses of fine crystal would have to add other 170 euros). One of the managers of the Buckingham store confirmed it: everything has devastated. Also the four young Spanish women who sold the hand program around The Mall for 10 pounds (11.3 euros): “It’s incredible how it sells.” Nothing was cheap, but no one went home empty-handed.
Since three in the morning, Helios Gala, his wife and two other colleagues have been selling breakfasts in the Saint James park with their food truck Pabellón, of Venezuelan food. It wasn’t even 8.20 when they had to close. Gala affirms that she has felt overwhelmed: “They wanted to lynch me.” They have had 200 clients, with about two or three meals per client; so many, that they have died of success. “We expected it, but we lacked a bit of practice because we don’t do breakfast. We were going to start giving meals at 11 in the morning, but we started at nine”. They’ve been in business for seven years, have a market stall on the Southbank every weekend “and this little toy going around London,” she proudly recounted about the caravan. They expected to give almost 1,000 meals, but the rain has tarnished a business that was going to help them, and a lot, to round off the box for the month.
The day has been long. And, of course, it has ended up in the around 3,500 pubs that are spread throughout the city, with permission to open until 11 at night, and that this long weekend (with Monday also a holiday) they plan to serve the not inconsiderable amount of 62 million pints of beer. Mary Hersey and Tracey Ball, from South West London, watched the coronation from The Old Star, just 500 meters from the capital. They were chatting with Bea, a Brazilian tourist, about whether it was a good idea for Meghan Markle to stay in California. They have already lost count of how many pints they have while chatting with the patrons and buying chips. They pretended to be the type to lower the blind at 11. Without any rush. The day has definitely been long. Very long.
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