Submitted by Evelyn Zivkovic,
All children were given a week off for the Coronation on June 2nd 1953. I was fortunate in that I lived in Central London and went home from school to Millman Street in Holborn.
We lived in a tiny flat on the top floor, with only a kitchen sink and a geyser for hot water above it. My mother and stepfather slept in the kitchen in a Put-up-Up, as the one bedroom was mine and was only big enough for a single bed and the other a sitting room, also tiny. The whole block had been condemned and was propped up on one side because of a huge bomb site on the other side which I played on when at home. A lot of Theobalds Road was bombed and my American cousin Edith was shocked by the number of bomb sites. We told her she ought to see the East End.
Our American cousin Edith came for the Coronation and went to Yorkshire first, where all the family including her grandfather come from, and brought my Gran down to see the Coronation but unfortunately also another cousin we had never met. She was distantly related to us by marriage in Victorian times.
The plan was to camp out all night as indeed half of London planned to do, and we found a spot behind Admiralty Arch. There was a large doorway with shallow steps and it was behind the Canadian Pacific building overlooking Trafalgar Square. There were thousands of people milling around, and we were carrying our blankets, flasks and sandwiches. It wasn’t raining then but it was nice to have a roof over our heads, as soon every doorway and most of the pavements were occupied by families.
We sat for several hours, relating family stories, reminiscences and jokes in the gloom of the street lights. Fortunately, just as Gran was about to launch into one of her naughty jokes the door behind opened. A man who looked like a butler asked us if we would like some tea.
The door was open for a short while and we could see inside. I was a child who had never known anything but war and austerity and I had never seen such luxury, and the brilliance and colour of the room took my breath away. Huge shimmering chandeliers, massive velvety crimson drapes cascading onto a plush crimson carpet: an immense dining table stretching into the distance attired in lustrous damask, with chairs as straight as a line of guards. Crystal goblets sparkling alongside gleaming silver cutlery, and gorgeous displays of flowers adorning the table, with larger floral arrangements in every recess.
We looked in silence absorbing our impressions of this opulence, even Edith, who had not experienced the drabness of war.
After a while the door opened again and to our astonishment the “butler” passed a silver tray to us, with bone china cups and saucers, silver teaspoons, and most amazing of all, sugar and dainty cakes. Some things were still on ration or hard to come by so this was incredible.
It would not have occurred to my Gran or my mother that we couldn’t be trusted with silverware presented to us by a complete stranger, and we were merely asked if we had enjoyed it when the tray was returned, with no overt counting of teaspoons. I don’t know who the man was but it was one of the most memorable moments of the Coronation for me. Obviously there was to be a Coronation banquet the next day.
I was the only member of the family who managed to sleep, and by morning my Gran and my mother were tired and decided to walk home and take all our baggage. I was left with Edith and Mary.
Thousands of people started to stir and the search began for a good vantage point. We found our spot at the corner of Northumberland Avenue and Trafalgar Square and eventually the roads were closed. The crowds were dense but you could walk behind. Sailors were positioned at intervals along the procession route and everyone was in a good mood and started to sing “All the Nice Girls Love the Sailors” and the men grinned. People remembered what the Navy had done for them during the war. All the thousands of people in the parade had served during the war and crowd did not forget that and were good humoured.
It was drizzling but it didn’t dampen spirits. We knew the procession was on its way because we heard bells and the crowd started to stir restlessly, perhaps hearing the bands in the distance. My cousins had not taken much care of me (I was 12) and although I was tall for a child, the crowd allowed me a front line place, whilst Edith and Mary were stuck at the back. I can’t imagine that happening today. It served them right, as I was really hungry and thirsty but they had saved some of their food which they ate in front of me.
We all craned forward as we heard the bands approaching. There were so many of them, with columns of smart servicemen, horsemen and carriages containing various dignitaries all waving, and it all seemed an endless tide. Leaders from all over the world were there, but the Queen outshone everyone. We could see this beautiful young woman wearing a gilded robe and glittering crown waving at us from a golden coach. It seemed unreal. I also remember the Queen of Tonga because I had never seen such a jolly and well fed person in my life. She had a small man in the carriage with her, and apparently when someone asked Noel Coward who he was, he replied “Her lunch”.
I don’t recall anyone else except Winston Churchill but I was more interested in the colourful informs etc than an old man.
As a spectacle I have never seen anything like it and I doubt whether anything on such a scale will happen again. Huge numbers of people took part, all immaculately turned out, marching perfectly in step, with every piece of equipment shining, and with beautiful horses and a fairytale golden coach thrown in.
Well, this shut Edith up for a while and stopped her droning on about how everything in the States was bigger and better. She and Mary somehow managed to lose me when the roads opened again and thousands of people started to disperse, and I was on my own in the middle of London with no money and in desperate need of a visit to the Ladies.
Every temporary lavatory had queues for miles, so I set off for home. I started to cry (I was 12) and was grizzling my way along the Aldwych when a young policeman asked me what was wrong. I blubbed out my predicament and he took my arm and briskly marched me to a Ladies nearby. He by-passed a long queue of scowling women and escorted me downstairs where he told the attendant that I was to go next. When I came out he asked if I was all right. My humiliation was so great I almost hated him, and was complete when I had to run the gauntlet of about 40 women, most of whom glared at me as I shuffled by. I couldn’t get away from the policeman fast enough, but I think he probably deserved a medal for bravery beyond the call of duty.
Coronation Day was one of the most memorable of my life, despite the embarrassment at the end. I am glad I was there on the street.
I arrived home eventually and for my pains I was told off for worrying my mother. But I gained some solace from the discomfort suffered by Edith and Mary who met the full force of my mother’s fury when they arrived home without me.
In 2018 I viewed and video of the Coronation parade and it was so moving – there were thousands of people in the parade and the bands were terrific. People were so glad the war was over and the mood was one of joy and light heartedness.
Evelyn Zivkovic (nee Scaife)