LONDON was last night waiting to bid its final farewell to Queen Elizabeth, the Queen Mother.

The streets around her home, Clarence House, were lined by smartly-painted TV gantries waiting for the historic scenes and by metal crash barriers in preparation for today's event. Loudspeakers swung from trees ready to relay the service.

Outside Clarence House lay a florist's lifetime work of floral tributes. Some were elaborate affairs professionally made; other humble daffodils hand-picked from suburban gardens. Some had 101 newspaper photographs stuck to them; others had childish drawings of the "Nation's grandma" with a bright pink felt-tip face.

All had messages. "With your passing some sunshine left our lives," said one.

There was a bottle of Beefeater gin - with a tiny drop left in - and the note: "Flowers are very nice, but at sad times like these, we all need a stiff drink. Send our greetings to Princess Di and John and George."

Another nearby read: "I had a very English afternoon queuing to pay my last respects to you. I have discovered the bottle of gin so decided to place my bunch of flowers nearby."

At Westminster Hall, that slow shuffling snake of people still wound on for miles, over Lambeth Bridge and on towards Waterloo. Little dots fading to the horizon, all part of a respectful phenomenon.

People lined the road opposite Westminster Hall to watch the queue. Countless TV crews prowled Parliament Square filming the queue every hour, on the hour.

Outside Westminster Abbey, in Broad Sanctuary as the sun went down and the night chill set in, a couple of hundred hardy souls settled down to wait in their tents, sleeping bags and cardboard boxes.

"I've got the perfect view, what more could I ask," said Paula in a loud Essex voice sweeping her arms towards the Abbey door by which the body of the Queen Mother would leave.

"I've been here seven hours and it's been the best seven hours of my life. I really can't wait for it all to begin.