Sadness
Since then, the newspapers and television stations have featured little else, and with good reason. Diana, it transpires, had united a nation as nothing before. Politics, race, religion and differences are set aside as everyone, young and old, has been affected by the death of someone very special.
There is little place for science fiction when the facts of the world we live in are brought home so starkly. It is hard to get excited about the adventures of a fictional hero, when one of the world's true heroines has died, her adventures cut short.
Like a great many other people, I have been suprised at the strength of emotion and feeling that her death has aroused in me. I never met her, I never even saw her in life, aside from the constant press and media coverage of her every move and word, and yet I feel that I have lost someone special. Someone who gave hope to those for whom there was no hope, offered love and kindness to those who were deprived of these most essential of gifts, and who gave freely of her time to those for whom time was running out.
On Wednesday this week, I went up to Buckingham Palace as I wanted to see for myself the flowers and the people. It was an impressive and humbling sight. A vast carpet of flowers stretching across the Mall in front of the Palace. People filing past to add their own offerings to the thousands that had gone before, and people stopping to wipe away tears as they read the messages and tributes of the people of the World. As well as in front of the Palace, the flowers and lighted candles stretched up the Mall, laid in front of the walls to St James' Palace where the lengthy queue of people stood in silence as they waited their turn to sign the books of remembrance. Staff from Harrods provided free water, tea and biscuits to those who waited patiently, and, as I made my way back up the Mall, every other person coming towards me held a bunch of flowers as their personal tribute to a great lady.
What was especially notable was the silence. The Mall had been closed to traffic and, aside from the gentle hushed murmur of people's voices, there was not the usual growl of engines and swishing of car tyres that one associates with London. The people who had come to stand, mourn and weep did so in silence. People smiled at total strangers as they passed. Apologies were freely offered as the crowds bumped and swelled around each other. The feeling was one of a sadness tinged with one of incredible togetherness. Those there were united with a common purpose, and this, more than anything, spoke volumes for Diana's work and impact on the nation.
I cried this morning. I cried as the cameras focussed on the coffin, with the wreath of white flowers at the front supporting an envelope on which was written the single word: 'Mummy'. I cried as Elton John sung the newly written words to his hit 'Candle in the Wind'. I cried as Earl Spencer's voice cracked and shuddered as he neared the end of his magnificent tribute to his sister.
I don't feel like writing about Doctor Who today. For the moment, my hero of time and space has been eclipsed by another hero. Someone who, like the Doctor, touched people's lives in a very intimate and personal way.