The date; Monday, June 12, 2017. Place, London. Event; The Changing the Guard at Buckingham Palace. Got there early to get our spot at the gates. Found a square on the pavement to perch ourselves, and peer through the bars. Early, we arrived. We had to stay put and hold on tight or others would come and try to usurp our position. The tourists flocked from all corners of London, to line up at the entrance of the Palace. I chose to allow a few small children to stand in my place. A cumbersome woman barged in, blocking their angled view to the inside. I told her she was taking the children’s space. She left.
The process of the event, from beginning to end, enraptured my spirit; the ongoing arrival of spectators, fueled by a desire to watch the colorful fanfare, the marching and playing of the Palace band. Otherwise, the procedure was quite tiresome and boring, and a bit puzzling that so many would come and stand in the heat and humidity, for what felt like an eternity. Yet, the allure and will to pay respect to the Queen and the Crown, she so regally bears, took precedent. People from around the globe stood and looked on, and when it was all over the multitudes meandered away, as if nothing happened at all. If I never see another changing of the guard, I will not care, as the young girl in the photograph may have felt. Her shirt read, “Don’t Care.”
On Tiffany Creek 