So significant and so final. As we break our wands of office and throw them into the grave, we are aware of a new age dawning. The queen is dead, long live the queen. As I look into the vault and think back to the years of Mary’s reign, short though they were, a bitter sadness enters my soul. I stand in the Henry VII chapel and I am unaware of people around me for a minute or two. Familiar faces incline to give an inclination of a nod or even a sombre smile as they pass by and file silently out of the chapel. I gaze up at the spectacular, intricately carved fan roof, the golden colour gleaming brightly.
I walk slowly out and back along the aisle to the main part of the abbey. This magnificent building, I am thinking, was where Mary was crowned queen and now is her final resting place. It
