If you want to pay your final, personal respects to the Queen, you need to join an hours-long queue.
In the crowd gathered outside Westminster Abbey, and around central London, a question keeps getting repeated.
"Should we go see the Queen?"
Shortly before, the monarch's coffin was delivered to Westminster Hall, her mourning family trailing in procession.
Now, police herd the crowd away from Westminster, towards the Thames and across the bridge, where they're greeted by the sight of a group, all wearing yellow wristbands, being funnelled down some stairs.
The security guards monitoring the queue have the same conversation on repeat.
'Where do you get those wristbands?'
'At the end of the line.'
'Where's the end of the line?'
'That way.'
Across the road, and along the river the line snakes.
For those already in the queue the mood is high. It's moving quickly, and people snack and chat, making friends for the duration of this unique pilgrimage.
But among those travelling in the opposite direction, the questions develop a frantic edge. Where's the end of the line?
The blue-jacketed volunteers offer varying answers, but the consensus seems to be London Bridge.
Turns out the end of the line is at Tower Bridge… sort of. In the winding lanes, it disappears, leaving groups of people confused and asking for answers in the maze of streets under the bridge.
Volunteer Andre is herding them back the way they came — they've gone too far.
He puts the extra couple of hundred metres people are walking down to the British politeness, as he hustles people back towards the Thames explaining once again that volunteers are handing out wristbands after people have joined the back of the line.
The Queen's presence is felt in the crowd, but this is a London she was never free to truly experience.
Priest Sam Cross says the price of the crown was it shut the Queen out of much of London.
"You live in luxury, but you are a servant to the public in that way. And so you can't just pop down to South Bank like we can have a drink and watch the Thames go by," he says.
"You have to stick with what is expected of you. She did that for 70 years, and that's worth remembering."
Kashmira is in line with her aunts, who are in high spirits, but all preparing themselves for lots of tears when they finally pay their respects.
The South Bank, she says, is a world away from the life of the King.
"This is like one of the most buzzing areas to really get the culture of modern London."
She says Charles will have to work hard to win over younger Brits.
"I think he needs to be the bridge between the legacy she has left, and what we expect of a modern monarch.
"So he's got a really tough challenge ahead of him. He's going to have to tap into what the country wants from him, and he's going to have to play it by ear a bit."
The end of the queue at Tower Bridge is kilometres from Westminster, but the line is moving quickly. Darkness is falling, but the mood remains high.
Akunna is on holiday from Houston, and never expected to be part of this moment, but wanted to experience it.
"I think it will be a moment of awe, for sure.
"I'm Nigerian. And whenever we bury someone it is also very much a lot of pomp and circumstances, you know, like tradition and rituals, and so it's very familiar to me."
As dusk falls the crowd, now armed with wristbands, shuffles down to the Thames, walking to Lambeth Bridge.
Across the river the view of their final destination is blocked by Parliament, flag flying at half mast.
Lit by the glare of a dozen reporters' live crosses, the pilgrims pick up the pace — it's really moving quickly now.
A volunteer estimates it's about a six-hour trip in total, but these people are getting close to the end.
Over the bridge, and down the steps, into a cordon away from the gaze of the media they line up into rows, ready to enter the Queen's London.
