Stacks of salmon sandwiches - David Hallam remembers the last Coronation in 1953

Though I was not quite five years old, the last Coronation left a lasting impression on me.?

There was quite a “build-up”. For weeks, before, or so it seemed at the time, shop windows had been decorated with pictures of the new Queen and Union Jacks. Some people had even painted flags and pictures on their walls.??I hadn’t yet started school and my child minder was Mrs Wood, Aunty Flo. Each day we would walk up to Chatsworth Market in Lower Clapton to marvel at the latest decorations.??

One day we went to Mare Street in Hackney and I stood at a counter in Woolworth’s and saw the multitude of souvenirs: red, white and blue pens, model golden coaches, imitation child-sized crowns, heavily decorated mugs and lots of paper plates. I opted for a pencil with a crown on top and carried it home as proud as punch.?

Every other street in Lower Clapton, where we lived, was able to string bunting across the road from house to house from the second or third floor. Our road was different: Presburg Street, now the site of the Nye Bevan Estate, had been flattened by a V bomb one Sunday in the last months of the Second World War. The site had been cleared and twenty-five temporary “pre-fab” bungalows, made of asbestos panels had been put there. They may not seem luxurious to modern tastes, but we had baths and fridges, unlike our neighbours in the multi-occupied terraced houses in the surrounding streets. Alas, without a second storey it was impossible to string bunting across the street, so we felt a little left out.?

Nevertheless, my parents were determined to make the best of the preparations for the big event and the day itself. The first treat was to go to see a rehearsal. We got up very early one morning and caught the 22 bus to the West End. We had seats in a grandstand and watched as bands and battalions marched pass.

Dad saw himself as something of a technical wizard so he bought a second hand pre-war TV set.??It had a tiny 12-inch square screen encased in a smart polished wooden box. He and my older brother put up a pole to carry the aerial to catch the signal. Whenever we wanted to watch anything, Dad had to go out and adjust the aerial; alas Coronation Day was no different and Dad seemed to be constantly running out and having instructions shouted at him to get the right picture.?

Lots of families had also bought televisions especially for the event but all our family and some neighbours came to us. There was plenty of drink and stacks of salmon sandwiches. I sat on the arm of a sofa and realised that my bare foot – we didn’t bother with socks and slippers indoors – was in my uncle’s beer. That didn’t worry him: he didn’t realise and continued to enjoy his pint which may have acquired some extra flavouring.

We were entranced by the screen and watched the parade and the service. As the Archbishop was approaching the Queen with the crown, my mother wondered aloud whether he would drop it. During the rest of the day, I played snow showers with my cousins in the gardens. This involved scraping the asbestos dust off the walls of the pre-fab and throwing it at each other. There wasn’t a street party as, to be honest, the other families were also new arrivals and we hardly knew one another. Few of our parents were even real Cockneys.

For the next few years, the Royal Family popped into our lives. At school, there was a savings scheme and we could buy stamps with a picture of Prince Charles or Princess Anne for six old pennies. It seemed that only those with better off parents could afford to buy these stamps and I developed an aversion to the scheme and to the Prince and Princess.

The next time I saw the Queen on a screen was when my brother took me to Saturday morning pictures at the Ritz Cinema by Clapton Pond. As the latest instalment of Tarzan finished all the older children ran for the door. However, those who didn’t leave in time felt obliged to watch film of the Queen taking the salute at the trooping of the colours accompanied by the National Anthem.?

The 1953 decorations came down, the colours on the wall paintings faded, and in 1977 we celebrated the Queen’s Silver Jubilee. I managed to get an invite to a posh do in Warwick. As I went down by train I noticed someone had painted “Stuff the Jubilee” on a wall, but by my return someone else had inserted the word “Great”. Oh well, thank goodness we live in a free country.?