Political journalist and Marlow resident, Simon Walters has put pen to paper after waiting 17 hours in the queue to see Queen Elizabeth II's coffin during her lying-in-state.

I filed past the Queen’s coffin in Westminster Hall side by side with Jacob Rees-Mogg.

Side by side though about 30 feet apart.

I had waited for 17 hours; his wait was probably less than 17 minutes.

Mr Rees-Mogg was in the controversial fast track line for MPs on the right of the catafalque.

I, in crumpled chinos and a jumper, was in the line on the left for the public.

I should stress I am not criticising Mr Rees-Mogg.

I used the same VIP queue at Queen Mother’s lying-in-state in 2002, taking advantage of my privileged position as a political reporter at Westminster.

It taught me a lesson: the Queen Mother’s lying-in-state made little impression mainly because my dad took a reluctant me, aged ten, to Winston Churchill’s lying-in-state in 1965.

What I remembered most was the queue.

Which explains why I spent the night in the drizzle on the Embankment sustained by pork pies and jammy dodger biscuits queuing for the Queen’s lying-in-state. (The VIP route was no longer an option anyway, my Parliamentary pass having expired).

As the numbers swelled, little groups formed, friends made at random and life stories were shared with strangers. As I did with a charming couple I met, Humphrey and Kathryn.

A common theme was the joy of rediscovering good old fashioned face to face human contact, so much richer than superficial relationships conducted via the internet and the narcissistic selfies we all agreed.

At last the queue snaked it’s way to the great hall.

When you have waited that long you take a deep breath when the moment finally arrives.

The panoramic view from the top of the steps of the hall, guards in ceremonial dress, crown glinting on top of the coffin, was awe inspiring.

There was time to pause on reaching the catafalque, turn to the Queen and bow.

As we filed past I saw a young woman surreptitiously take a selfie on her iPhone. I tutted to myself.

Shortly after Humphrey, Kathryn and I emerged at the other end, Humphrey’s iphone pinged.

His sister in America was watching on live TV, spotted her brother, took a screen grab of the three of us about to pass the coffin and WhatsApped it to him. Maybe the internet is so bad after all!

The wait for the Queen’s hearse on the Long Walk on Monday was shorter - and sunnier.

It was getting there that was the problem when all trains on the Paddington line were out of action. After getting the ‘Marlow Donkey’ to Maidenhead I shared a taxi to Eton via the back roads with another stranded passenger.

There was an almost festive atmosphere, catering vans selling pasties and cappuccino, a bit like Glastonbury. When the National Anthem and hymns from the funeral service at Westminster Abbey were shown on enormous TV screens, many in the crowd joined in.

I have had some lively exchanges with republican friends who cannot understand all the fuss, all the waiting and queuing.

‘What is wrong with you?’ asked one.

My response was that it is akin to the ancient tradition of a gathering of the clans to mark the death of a revered monarch or leader, a kind of pilgrimage.

And everyone came away feeling there is less that divides us than unites us.

What’s wrong in that?