WHAT a lot of fuss over a box of bones! That was the reaction of my neighbour as I prepared to head north for Leicester to see the long overdue lying-in-state of King Richard III.

Many will have agreed with him, but with 40,000 people turning out to see that oak coffin between Sunday and Tuesday, it was no small reaction.

An early start allowed me to be in the queue before 9am and the wait lasted only 35 minutes. Previous days had seen waiting times of four and five hours. I was surrounded by families large and small, students, academics, eight members of a Rugby Women’s Institute as well as individuals like my who simply wanted to be part of this historic occasion.

The McKay family had left their home on the Wirral, Cheshire, at 4am. Mum, dad and four school-age children were congratulating themselves on being in the first 1,000 of the day. Mother Eileen said getting leave from school for the four had not been easy, but eventually the ‘living history’ plea had won the day.

Maxwell, a corpulant bow-tied retired academic from Sheffield, was happy to fill in the details of Richard’s short career for anyone wanting to listen.

A party of deaf men and women were happy to ‘listen’ thanks to their leader’s sign language.

Satin-sashed volunteers were everywhere, broad smiles at the ready. Whether these faded later in the day I am not in a position to say, but their enthusiasm and helpfulness was first class. One volunteer carried a large tray of sweets, offering them to all who passed. When someone accidentally nudged her, spilling the contents, young and old came to help. I was given a lemon sherbert for my trouble!

Clergymen of all ranks were there to greet the visitors. Had the men and women of the cloth retired to the interior of the cathedral, they would surely have half-filled the place. It was left to a volunteer to announce any ‘house rules’. Photographs were permitted, but once inside he urged visitors to take no more than a couple of snaps (his word) and to refrain from selfies. It was important to keep moving.

These instructions were delivered in a firm voice impossible to ignore. One of the clergy found it difficult to contain himself.

“Here endeth the 11th to 13th commandments,” he said with a broad grin.

The McKay children gave him a cheer.

Once inside the cathedral there were more volunteers keeping a quiet yet watchful eye. But nothing was allowed to spoil the moment of seeing the crown and Bible and embroidered cloth that covered the coffin and the guard of honour of four uniformed ex-servicemen standing heads bowed. It was a moving experience.

The burial in a small chapel behind the high altar took place yesterday. It might be 530 years since Richard was denied a decent funeral, let alone that of a king. The Friends of Richard III, the Diocese of Leicester and the many visitors to the city have made amends.