Waiting for five hours. For a few minutes at the Queen's coffin

Westminster Hall lies magnificently: in the middle, on the catafalque covered with violet velvet, the coffin of the monarch is laid out. Wrapped in the royal standard, bearing the Imperial State Crown, sceptre, orb and a plain wreath of white roses and Balmoral pine boughs.

"An overwhelming moment when, after a long wait for the gallery, you come above the stairs — and suddenly see the Hall lying in front of you. Like a painting, like a still life,” says Lynn, a visitor from Berkshire who has been in line with her husband David for five hours since dawn. At the coffin for a few minutes.

Which will remain unforgettable for many. Especially because of the silence that reigns in Westminster Hall. Filled with respect and the unspoken awareness that history is being made right now.

At the same time, it is the symmetry of the almost thousand-year-old room. The guards posted at each corner of the podium, the candles, and of course the 14th-century wooden beams soaring above. What have these beams already seen? From the Revolution, to fires, the sentencing of Charles I to death in 1649, to royal banquets. Speeches by historical figures such as Charles de Gaulle, Nelson Mandela, by Elizabeth II herself took place on her steps.

A young woman slowly walks past the coffin, wanting to linger. But the ushers with their white gloves, with consummate politeness but unequivocally, urge people to move on. Shortly before the exit, the woman crosses herself in the direction of the coffin, curtseys and waves to her dead queen one last time as she exits. A Sikh in a traditional orange turban, holding a plastic Tesco bag, bows. An old lady gets up from her wheelchair and walks the last few meters on a stick.

Changing of the guard every 20 minutes. Perhaps this is to prevent another guard from collapsing, as happened during the night. The change itself is a spectacle when, at a knock, the new troupe marches in while nobody in the hall moves. Swords are raised, spears stretched. The rhythmic tread of the boots echoes through the room.

Then the line of people begins to move again. It won't end until 6:30 a.m. Monday morning. Hundreds of thousands will then have been part of the still life for the dead Queen.