A journey along the Jubilee Line to see how the nation is celebrating

This was on the menu yesterday off the beaten track of the jubilee mega-productions and made-for-TV pop concerts.

The tourists were happy in London's glitzy West End and in the royal parks, where huge screens broadcast the fun outside Buckingham Palace. But how were things out of the glare of the television lights? What, in this 50th year of the Queen's reign, were her subjects doing along the Jubilee Line of the London Underground, the line that was being constructed during her 25th anniversary celebrations and extended in time for the new millennium?

This, if you like, is a line of unification, meandering as it does from the high north-west of the capital, snaking under the Thames to service the neglected south before rising again to the poor East End via the white elephant of the Dome. Here, surely, was a slice of life. But yesterday, in the unlikely event of the Queen boarding one of its trains, it would have provided cold comfort as a barometer of love for the monarchy.

Across London, the number of applications for road closures for street parties was lamentably low. In 1977, it seemed that there was a street party in every street. Roads were decked in bunting. Municipal buildings glowed red, white and blue. Pictures of the younger Elizabeth were as ubiquitous in the UK as posters of Saddam Hussein still are in Iraq. Would it be the same 25 years on?

First stop, then, was Dollis Hill, a short walk from Oldfield Road in Harlesden, where residents had applied for a two-day closure to hold parties, in an attempt to cheer up their children and get to know their neighbours.

This was a valiant and happy effort in an area that has become tarnished by stories of shootings and gangland oppression. Organisers had excelled themselves, laying on music and food, barbecues and drink. But a quick look along the street showed that it was not being staged with the Queen fully in mind.

"She really has nothing to do with us," said James "Mr Super" Toney, 40, a cheerful man with magnificent dreadlocks. "This is mainly for the kids, to give them a good time, but we don't really feel the Royal Family has anything to do with us. We feel pretty neglected here; we couldn't even get Brent Council to give us a grant for the party."

There was some bunting, but very little in individual house windows. "Not everyone likes the Queen, but some of us do," said Pat John-Lewis, 60. "She was more popular at her silver jubilee. This is to mark her golden anniversary, but it is actually a great way to get to know each other. We tend to pass people by these days without saying hello. Well, after this, maybe we will."

Two stops down, and Kingsley Road in Kilburn has laid on a spread such as your mother used to make. Ginger beer and fizzy orange rub shoulders with egg mayonnaise fingers and sausage rolls. Neighbours Rachel Verrells and Josie Warshaw wanted their children, Matilda, eight, and Clem, seven, to enjoy the sort of party their parents laid on for them 25 years ago. But they canvassed the street first, sensitive to the fact that not everyone was interested in celebrating.

Some of those who attended were republicans, but they wanted to be neighbourly – a desire that may well leave a longer-lasting legacy than memories of any Buckingham Palace party. "I have told Matilda that my mother did this for me and one day she will do something similar for her children," Mrs Verrells said. "The Royal Family are not as popular as they were, but I think people still respect the Queen."

And, for a while, this is as good as it gets. Most other streets are bereft of bunting or national flags, save as a measure of support for the English football team.

A trek from Swiss Cottage station brings you to Primrose Hill, an affluent centre-left area where talk of the Queen comes a poor second to more pressing issues. Just off Regent's Park Road, however, is a formative street party. Low tables and tiny schoolchairs are lined up. But not really for the jubilee.

"This is a republican party," said Veronica Brinton, 58, one of the organisers. "None of our decorations are red, white and blue. They're gold-coloured. We wanted to have a celebration for the kids and the older people. The jubilee is an excuse to have a street party. But if you want to know what we're celebrating the most, it's our success recently in seeing off Starbucks. They wanted to open up here, but we campaigned against them."

At last, trundling down to Green Park, here are some serious royalty fans.

They are huddling on the grass in the driving rain, waiting in front of giant screens to see the pop concert. A large proportion, however, aren't local. They're tourists.

Among them are Andrea Swierczynski, 20, from New Zealand, and Julie Curran, 23, from Australia. "I feel really patriotic – and she isn't even my queen," Miss Curran said. "My granddad is English and I like all of this. I know some British people seem to have a problem with the royals, but you're really lucky. I just feel sorry for the Queen. She's just lost her sister and mother, and I bet she'd have liked them to see this."

South then, beneath the river to Southwark, a new Jubilee Line station expected to revitalise a previously depressed area. Room here, surely, for celebration. But there are precious few parties. The nearest is supposed to be a good mile away on the Gaywood Estate. Or is it?

"We cancelled it because the council wanted to charge us £400 to close the street," said Jo Ayres, 55, leaning out of her bunting-decked flat. "Everyone is very disappointed, especially the kids, but that is a lot of money to raise. I like the Queen and I'd have liked a party, but my local pub had a celebration on Saturday night, so I went there instead."

Such a problem with organisation could not possibly mar celebrations down the line to the east, where, at Greenwich, a party was going on at the Old Royal Naval College. From these buildings, great expeditions were launched and predatory enemies seen off.

But yesterday, the grounds suffered an embarrassing dearth of offerings – a candy floss stall, a mini merry-go-round, a Sea Cadet unit, fire engines, a small beer stall and a Save the Children tent. But no flags or bunting, no rows of tables for hungry children. No pictures of the Queen.

"We wondered if there was anything on at all when we drove past," said Nick Gordon-Brown, who was with his wife and children.

On, then, on to the end of the line, Stratford in east London. And perhaps predictably, some folk here have done the Queen proud.

In the Chandos Community Centre, they are on their third day of celebrations and still going strong. The place is packed with children from all over the world tucking into cheese sandwiches, chipolata sausages and ice cream, all beneath clouds of bunting and fussing adults wearing Union Flag hats and carrying memorial jubilee mugs.

"People celebrate for different reasons and it may not be the same as it was 25 years ago, but we still love the Queen and we wanted to mark the jubilee for her," said Keigh Ruggles, 53, one of the organisers. "Who knows what will happen over the next 50 years? The least we can do is give the children something for when they grow up, and hopefully that'll be the memory of the day they celebrated the Queen's golden jubilee."