THE queue to see the coffin of our late Queen became such a symbol of Britishness, in its order and politeness, that it wasn't a surprise to find there were countless instances of basic decency displayed during its formation. As people shared food, drink and seating arrangements, it spoke of respectful humanity. Offices, shops, and entertainment venues also showed decency: staffed by volunteers, they offered support to the queueing masses. (The Globe theatre volunteers welcomed 30,000 people.) This might be why so many spoke disparagingly about the television presenters Phillip Schofield and Holly Willoughby, comparing their apparent display of queue-jumping celebrity privilege with the more honourable behaviour of former footballer David Beckham, who queued for more than 11 hours to pay his respects. Queues should not be underestimated as a visual symbol of British decency, but I have been fortunate enough to experience many other instances of such kindness.
Returning from one of our favourite Exmoor walks, my husband and I passed a house that we've always called 'Mrs. Wallace's Cottage'. It's an unprepossessing building with a quiet charm, but the story of how it acquired its name is what makes it really special.
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