How funeral of Queen Elizabeth II was seen on the streets of Gwent

In the centre of Newport there was an unusual hush but no complete silence in a shopping destination stripped, for one unusual Monday, of its purpose. Nearly all shops, from from corner stores to supermarkets and independents to the largest of multinationals, had closed. 

But Newport’s Friar’s Walk was far from empty; two coffee shops had seemingly been doing brisk trade all morning. 

Groups of younger men wondered around the shuttered shops and a passerby could clearly be heard informing them that “the only things open are Wetherspoons and Asda, at five”. 

Amid the chatter of those sat in the public square the noise of the occasional vehicles on otherwise empty roads could be heard. There was also the near constant percussive vibrations, similar to a faint pneumatic drill, every time a cyclist crossed the footbridge that is suspended above the Usk. 

Among those enjoying an unexpected day off was 30-year-old dad Ben Latham, who, by the time of his return journey across the bridge was carrying his three-year-old daughter’s push bike. 

The Queen’s funeral, he acknowledged, is a “big momentous event” but: “I’m not really one for watching that kind of thing on the telly”. 

Crossing the bridge, into the centre, were a couple in their late 40s who had been “getting to know each other” after meeting online. 

They were hoping to be able to buy a coffee on a day in which they felt as if “everyone’s been told to stay at home.” 

“I’m not remotely interested in the funeral,” said the man who didn’t want to give his name saying he was “neutral” on the issue of the monarchy though his female companion thought his views “are stronger than that”. 

They felt a case could be made for shops and heritage attractions staying open as “the Queen would want everything to carry on” but instead they found themselves wandering into a closed shopping centre during their extended weekend on a day that “doesn’t feel like a Monday”. 

Sat in the public seating areas were two men, both over 50, who while happy to be out while the funeral was taking place weren’t ignoring the event. 

“I don’t like to watch stuff like that as I’ve suffered with anxiety and depression, in the past, so I don’t need to look at it but it’s a 70 year reign and it has to be done out of respect, tomorrow everything will be back like it was,” said the younger man. 

Sat to his right was a slightly older man, who again asked not be named, who was relieved to have been able to buy a coffee: “It is busier than I was expecting. I was expecting all the shops to be closed but I managed to get a coffee. That was the one thing I was worried about, that I wouldn’t get my morning coffee.” 

He had come out on his own feeling the weight of the live television coverage was “too much” but he said he isn’t avoiding the funeral entirely: “I’ll likely watch the half hour highlights but I’ve been sat at home and it has been on for hours and is just driving me mad.” 

The wall to wall coverage was also too much for another man, sat on Kutaisi Walk that runs alongside the Usk, who felt it over-bearing for those, like him, who were recently bereaved having not long lost his mother. 

“I don’t get out too often but all the hospital appointments have been cancelled, I should have had physio today but there was no way I was staying in today and there was no point putting the television or the radio on or picking the paper up,” said the man who didn’t want to give his name. 

While there may have been little connection with the Royal family for those in Newport city centre at the time of the Queen’s state funeral it was a day filled with meaning for several old friends in Pontypool. 

Members of the Veterans Association, Pontypool branch had gathered at the town’s memorial gates, where flowers have been left for the Queen, as the service began. 

Vince Poultney, 67 who served in the Territorial Army’s Royal Regiment of Wales, said the tribute, read at their short service, was “the way we feel about the Queen. 

“We put our heads together and that says what we all think about the Queen.” 

Following a minute’s silence the members headed to the Comrades Club, in Market Street, where they continued to watch the proceedings with the sort of humor commonly found among groups of men. 

Amid the sense of duty and loyalty among the group there were also fond memories such as those of 82-year-old Ken Williams a veteran of 15 years in the South Wales Borderers who can recall watching the Queen’s Coronation, as a 13-year-old, in 1953. 

“I watched it in the pub and I thought it was a good day although it was tipping down with rain for her, and I was drinking lemonade. I think it probably was the first thing I had ever seen on TV.” 

A reign that had begun in the days of black and white television, when few had sets at home, was now being toasted by friends who’d served Queen and country as they watched her laid to rest in a service covered from every angle and broadcast to millions of homes across the world.