I think it’s fair to say yesterday was a bit of a tough day for us all. I watched the state funeral here at home, of course. Dom was here with me, and he suggested that, after the main body of the service, we go up and take a walk along the South Bank. I was against the idea at first – the thought of going anywhere near central London yesterday seemed ridiculous – but as the morning wore on I warmed to the idea.

We got to Waterloo at about half two. I had never seen anything quite like it: the city felt very different yesterday to how it usually feels; there was none of the bustle or commotion of a twenty-first century metropolis; everything seemed far more subdued. By then they were starting to tidy up, so I could tell something big and important had just happened. Walking eastwards along the Thames, the pubs were beginning to fill, but everyone seemed a bit quieter, as if you could tell it was not a day for partying.

And I suppose it wasn’t. Yesterday the country bid a loving farewell to our longest reigning monarch, someone who had always seemed to be there. Someone who had appeared on TV every christmas day throughout my entire life; someone who seemed as much a part of the national fabric as cricket, pubs and Bond films. The realisation that she isn’t there any more is an odd one, as if something you had simply assumed to be constant and immovable has suddenly vanished, to be replaced with something new and oddly different.

I had a lot of respect for the Queen; I think, deep down, everyone did. Yet we are all now adapting to having a new face where hers once was: one which, perhaps, does not hold the same gravitas. While I doubt much will change in our everyday lives, who knows what this new era will bring: a shift in attitudes towards the monarchy, perhaps, or perhaps people will become slightly more withdrawn. Of course the pubs will still open, cricket matches will still be played and new Bond films will (eventually) be made. Yet, on some level, after yesterday things won’t quite feel the same.