Mourning a monarch: a big-screen tribute to the late Queen Elizabeth II at Piccadilly Circus in London. Photograph: Chris Jackson/Getty
A week ago, I and the other 160,000 or so Irish-born people living and working in London, heard the news, along with the rest of Britain and the wider world, of the death of Queen Elizabeth. A historically significant moment such as this forces us to confront our own history and how we carry that with us as we build careers, lives, fortunes and families in the English capital.
My first response was one of confusion, not because this event was unexpected — she was 96 — but because I did feel a loss, and that made me uncomfortable. As an Irish person, someone who relishes every opportunity to return home and take sanctuary from the beautiful busyness of London in my beloved Kerry countryside, it was like I was damned if I did and damned if didn’t pay homage to the late queen.
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I’m from Ardfert, a few miles outside of Tralee in Kerry and I moved to London in January 2019 to study a MA in Fashion Communication at Central Saint Martins. Since completing my MA I’ve been working at ANM Comms a luxury PR agency and writing on the side.
The solemnity that has fallen over London, which was particularly evident as I walked to Buckingham Palace on Friday night, is something I’ve never experienced before. Walking down Regent Street toward St James’s and on to the Mall, I was surrounded by people carrying flowers and cards and holding up their phones to take photographs of tributes to the queen along the way.
Regardless of our opinions of Elizabeth II or the monarchy, we all recognised that walk to the palace was to be respected. In this moment it became clear to me that it was perfectly reasonable to recognise, and embrace, the sadness around the death of the queen alongside my British friends and colleagues.
Suddenly, the more jubilant press or social-media coverage of her death seemed crass.
I never have, nor ever will, support the institution of monarchy in any country, but the death of this woman will not end that system: its nature is that another person, in this case King Charles III, takes her place immediately. The monarchy that once ruled all of Ireland hasn’t gone anywhere, but a grandmother to a city and nation, one that has given me so much, has died.
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Queen Elizabeth was a figure many British people metaphorically clung to in times of instability. It’s only natural that her death is an emotive event.
That Friday night, when I reached Piccadilly Circus and gazed at the images of the queen emblazoned on its gargantuan screens, I was transported back to the last time unusual images replaced the flashing adverts. That was at the peak of the first lockdown, early in 2020, a dark time for many, including me. For a moment on Friday night I could grasp why the British took such solace in the image of Queen Elizabeth as a figure who seemed always to have been there.
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Did I laugh a little and share witty Tweets with friends, both British and Irish, surrounding her death and Charles’ ascension? Yes. But, as with any death, there are moments of happiness and laughter that punctuate the overriding sadness. Whether we are willing to or not, we are all capable of appreciating Elizabeth’s reign as one of historical and emotional significance for people all over the world. And we can do this while also being critical of monarchy; it isn’t binary.
As an Irish person who will likely spend the whole of my professional life — and maybe longer — in London, I deem it perfectly reasonable to respect and take note of this event without fearing that the ghosts of my ancestors who fought for Irish independence will come back to haunt me.
I do feel sad that she’s gone. Her passing marks the end of one era and the beginning of another. Change can be for the better, but it is often scary and unknown. Before I moved to London I dreamed of living here, and when I first visited the city, at the age of 15, I knew it was where I belonged. Buckingham Palace, streets lined with cream town houses, manicured parks and shrubbery, the queen herself, the diamond- and platinum-jubilee celebrations, and more besides, have all shaped my and many other people’s view of London.
In a way it is fitting that she is passing on now, just as the stamps and money that bore her likeness are slowly but surely losing their ubiquity.
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A mainstay in the lives of many of the British and London-born friends and colleagues who’ve made me feel so welcome and privileged to pursue a career here is gone, and I sympathise with them. For my Irish friends and family, our history of being ruled from London will always remain — regardless of the existence of the British monarchy.
At times like these our sense of humour as a mechanism to channel our emotions, negative or positive, prevails, as does our enduring ability to embrace our past while moving into the future. This makes me proud to be Irish, and proud to have built a life and career in London.