Kathleen Lay
A hurriedly made decision on June 1st 1953 saw us heading to London with our folding stools, thermos flasks and sandwiches. London was the place to be and we were going to the Coronation of Queen Elizabeth on June 2nd.
We arrived mid-afternoon and joined the thin line of people taking a kerb side position in the Mall. No barriers, no police!
Excitement and friendliness were everywhere, every van or person going to the palace got a cheer from us. We didn’t sleep that night; the mall was a continuous murmur with breaks of joking and singing.
The grey dawn broke, the street lights went out, it was Coronation Day! It was proclaimed that Edmund Hillary and his expedition force had conquered Everest – cheers again.
Soon the people who had paid for their stands nearer the Palace arrived, fashionably dressed, not like us with our raincoats and scarves.
Down from the Palace came the band, followed by the first procession. Each King, Prince and dignitary more imposing than the last, the Queen beautiful and ethereal in a magnificent golden coach and horses.
A wait, and presently the thunderous cheers heralded the return of the Queen, the crown, sceptre and orb gave Queenliness to the young girl.
I will remember the deafening cheers as Sir Winston Churchill went by and a large smiling and waving Queen Salote from Tonga in an open carriage defying the drizzle.
We had a day to remember, we were young and the rain didn’t bother us.
We arrived home and watched it all again on our neighbours’ television – a small black and white set.
Later we went to watch a beacon burning on Scuthamore Knob. Tired out we went home to bed with plenty to think about.
