436. 8pm. Standing, by the exit.
The crowds were on their way home from the river pageant, street parties and other Jubilee events, and there was a jolly scattering of Union Jack hats, capes and scarves on the bus. Right in front of me though was my favourite Jubilee moment.
A small black boy, maybe two years old, was sitting in a pram, right next to a twenty-something white lady in a wheelchair. They were both facing the wide window, and gave the impression of a pair of old friends sitting on adjacent deckchairs watching a village green cricket match. They didn’t know each other, but made friends immediately, using gestures and smiles. They shared some invisible snacks, taking it in turns to offer each other delicious morsels and scoffing them with great delight. The boy occasionally threw his head back and belly-laughed, like a happy old man with a lifelong friend.
Everyone who saw this scene melted a little; it was almost unbearably cute. The Queen’s big day was very impressive, but hip hip hooray for our quiet, everyday affinities.