I was 12, coming up 13 when Churchill died. We lived in Maidenhead, about 40 miles west of London. My friend’s Dad brought her up to see his lying in state. I was invited to go along with them but Mum (who was a teacher, and later a headmistress for many years) was very strict about such things and wouldn’t let me have the day off school. I thought at the time, and still think now, that you probably learn more about history by being part of it than you do by reading books and I wonder what I actually did learn at school that day. Probably not a lot as I imagine that I sulked and refused to pay attention!
So today’s commemoration of the 50th anniversary of Churchill’s state funeral was an opportunity to revisit a historical event that I have always felt I somehow ‘missed’ as a child. Havengore, the boat that carried Churchill’s coffin from St Paul’s to Festival Pier on the day of the funeral, was due to cast off from HMS President at 12:40, Tower Bridge was to open at 12:45 and she would pass HMS Belfast at 12:50 where there would be a four gun salute. She would then continue to reach the Houses of Parliament for a service with a wreath being cast onto the Thames at 13:30. Where to watch? London Bridge seemed to be a good location photographically; I’d get a good view of Tower Bridge opening and also of the flotilla passing HMS Belfast.
I arrived at the bridge around twenty past 12 to find I was not the only one with this idea; quite a few others were already lining the balustrade, cameras at the ready, but luckily I wasn’t too late to find a place for myself. Next to me were a couple of City lads, probably in their 30s. “Do you know what time it’s happening?” they asked. I showed them the timetable of events on my phone. “I’ve got to be back at work at 1,” said one. “Blame it on Churchill if you’re late,” I replied and added “but you hadn’t been born when he died!” It’s interesting the way, when a crowd starts to gather, passers-by want to know what’s happening, feel that perhaps they should be joining in, want to make sure they’re not missing anything. So the people who watched the flotilla from London Bridge today were a mixture of those who had gone there with that intention and those who simply arrived there by chance and stayed to watch – although some, once they had satisfied their curiosity as to what was going on, simply continued on their way. “It was a great year, 1965,” said one of the accidental arrivals. It turned out that he had been a few days old when Churchill died and had recently celebrated his 50th.
So the time passed and there we all were; some who were old enough to remember the war, some – like me – born after the war but old enough to remember Churchill (who was prime minister when I was born), some for whom this was a purely historical event, some who were tourists and just vaguely sensed they were participating in something important. We watched the boats passing up and down the river, the traffic moving backwards and forwards across Tower Bridge. Then the traffic stopped, we could see boats manoeuvring into position on the other side of the bridge and the bridge gradually began to be raised.

The flotilla made its way through and reached HMS Belfast. The four gun salute was just audible above the sound of helicopters overhead (tv, security?) and the boats passed under the bridge to the faint sound of the on-board bagpipers.

We all rushed across to the other side, between fortuitous breaks in the traffic, to watch as the flotilla made its way under the Canon Street bridge.


In the 1960s London was still a working port and much has been made of the cranes being lowered as a mark of respect as the coffin passed. Today London is still full of cranes but they’re associated with construction rather than commerce and don’t line the Thames in the way they used to. I looked around to see if I could see any today. There were two orange ones standing high in front of the Shard and another two over toward City Hall; one was already down but the other was standing proud. Would any be lowered as the flotilla passed, I wondered. Satisfyingly, the one by City Hall was lowered as the boats passed and then raised again once they had gone. I hope the crane operator realises that someone noticed.


And that was it. With frozen fingers I caught the bus back home but I was glad I went and as I’ve now retired I didn’t even need to skive off work to do so!

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