The Connellys watch the coronation ending, and they are beaming with pride. Pomp and circumstance for the British, pride for the working man. All those banal people we're so very, very much better than: that's what royalty is for. Not the false image but what's behind it: a sense of something bigger than you are, something we can all take part in. God knows the monarchy is an issue, but once you've ameliorated them out of existence, with Prime Ministers and the death of empire and Parliaments and the middle class, they're so cute! Tommy heads into the street and finds his Gran; she folds him in her arms.
A certain lovely song -- The "Song For Ten," in another form? -- begins to play, beautiful and nostalgic, as the Doctor scans the crowd for Rose. She sees him the second he sees her, and a wide, beautiful smile spreads across her face. Her face tells a story. The Doctor returns the smile, walking toward her faster and faster, both of them laughing with relief and joy as he throws his arms around her, lifting her off the ground. She holds to him tightly, her grin so wide and lovely and real, before she buries her face in his shoulder.
Rita and Eddie face each other in the empty Connelly living room. She holds a battered suitcase. "This was never your house. It's in my mother's name. And on her behalf I'm telling you: Out." She drops the suitcase on the floor, between them. Eddie, finally defeated, picks it up and leaves. Please, listen: you don't know what you're missing. The world is at your command, if you're willing to look. And until that day, take your time and don't hurry. Leave it all, till somebody else lends you a hand. Rita watches him go, with relief on her face. But who lends Eddie the hand he needs? He was broken before the Doctor showed up, that should count for something.
Music plays on the street, people dancing and talking, tables lined up down the center of the road, covered in pastries, cakes, drinks. England's dream begins again. The Doctor and Rose walk, apart from it all. "We could go down the mall, join in with the crowd," Rose suggests, but the Doctor just eats his cake. "Nah, that's just pomp and circumstance. This is history right here." He wants to stay in the lane, on Florizel Street: on this side of the image of the Queen. No need for the image, the face, of England, when her people are all around us. "The domestic approach," laughs Rose, and they laugh together. "Exactly." She asks if the Wire is trapped on the tape for good; the Doctor promises to -- just in case -- use his "unrivaled knowledge of transtemporal extirpation methods to neutralize the residual electronic pattern." In other words (those of my main man Vince, on the Mighty Boosh, to be exact): "I'm going to tape over it." Rose laughs: "I'm always doing that." We'll see.