Tower's ancient ceremony casts a rare spell of history, drama

Americans tend to be fond of history and ceremony, two reasons England draws us like moths to a flame. I suspect it's the reason why, when standing with a group of more than 40 Brits outside the Tower of London on Friday night, I was one of just two people who raised my hand when asked if anyone had ever seen the Ceremony of the Keys. And I suspect I was the only one about to see it for the fourth time.

The mix of historic costume, 700-year history, atmospheric setting, military parade and limited access makes the Ceremony one of the most magical bits of heritage anyone can experience in London. It never ceases to amaze me how many Brits have never even heard of it, much less realise it's free to attend and open to all. (You just need to be organised enough to ask for tickets many months in advance.)

So what, exactly, am I talking about?

The Tower of London, as fortress, prison, palace, jewel house and mint, has always needed to take security seriously. The Ceremony is the nightly, official locking of the main gates.  The Chief Warder leaves the guardroom and walks to a point near the Traitors' Gate (where visitors are standing to watch), collects his guard, then returns to the main gate to lock up. He and the guard return to their starting point, where they're challenged by a fierce-looking sentry brandishing his bayoneted rifle.

"Who goes there?" he thunders. (A booming voice clearly being one of the requirements for military service.)

"The Keys!" the Chief Warder thunders back.

"Whose keys?"

"Queen Elizabeth's keys!"

The challenging sentry then pronounces "Pass, Queen Elizabeth's Keys ... for all is well."

The Chief Warder and his escort head up to Tower Green and the onlookers, now assured that all is right with the world, get to follow. You emerge from a medieval arch to see a bunch of soldiers gathered in formation on the steps above you. The illuminated bulk of the White Tower looms beside you, Tower Bridge forms a stunning backdrop over your right shoulder, and history draws close on every side.  The Chief Warder bellows "God Preserve Queen Elizabeth!" and everyone gets to join in with a hearty "Amen". Republicans and atheists may wish to opt out.

The business of the day done, a lone bugler plays The Last Post. It's always an evocative melody, but in this haunting setting, with the solemn, stern soldiers before you honouring their colleagues who have fallen in service, I defy you not to feel the hairs on the back of your neck stand.

At this point, visitors return as they came and get ushered out a small postern door in the main gate. The whole thing takes less than 15 minutes. Quick, but magical. Although perhaps not as magical as it was way back in 1981, when even fewer people knew about it and the palaces had yet to discover corporate hospitality. I remember standing in a small group in a steady drizzle, entranced by the Yeoman Warder and convinced I'd be able to see a ghost if I could just stay longer.

It's not quite as haunting these days, when there are a couple hundred of you, but the Yeoman Warders are still as entrancing. These long-serving soldiers meet tough service criteria, then compete through a rigorous interview process to become one of the handful chosen. They live in the Tower until their military retirement and are the face of the place for the general public. A Yeoman Warder's tour, imbued with equal measures of history, drama and humour, is one of the world's great sightseeing experiences.

On this visit I was remarkably privileged to special access because I was there with a group with Army ties. We had an hour's tour earlier in the evening, filled with all the usual tales of intrigue, violence, politics and pathos that make this place so fascinating. Except that this tour, being in the military family, had even more humour ... much of it of the insider's variety. As I approach five years of marriage to a former soldier, I now realise that the wry jokes of a Yeoman Warder's tour aren't just some scriptwriter's way to engage tourists. Humour is as hard wired into the DNA of the British Army as sharp uniforms, shoes polished to a blinding sheen and that bellow of "God Save the Queen!"

Wandering around the historic military complex in the quiet darkness, free of other tourists and with our own guide, was a real honour. It reminded me what a unique site this is, and that ... dissuaded by stories of terrible crowds ... I haven't visited it properly in well over a decade.  I need to go back to let the American tourist in me revel in more history and ceremony.

If you're interested in tickets to the Ceremony of the Keys, the general public can book here. Best to plan at least six months in advance.