I
remember Coronation Day 1953 very well indeed and that’s because it was my
thirteenth birthday. I was a teenager
at last, it was a Tuesday and by rights we should have been at school but
instead a Public Holiday had been declared, what my mother and the aunts called
a Bank Holiday. Twenty miles up river in London apparently
it was raining but in our part of North Kent the sun shone, at least that’s how
I remember it and what’s more a Street Party had been organised. The Street Party was not the only unusual and
exciting event because someone highly pro-active had also organised a Fancy
Dress Parade and someone else was to judge a York Road, Shepherd Street &
Surrounding Areas Talent Contest.
The
lead up to the day seemed to involve endless conversation between my mother and
her favourite sister about what had happened before the War when the now
deceased King George VI had been forced to take on the burden of kingship
because of his wayward brother and that American Hussy who had waltzed into his
life and tempted him. It was all reminiscent
of Harry & Meghan eight decades later only not nearly as shocking because
at least The Royals of the time had not been accused of Racism. There seems to have been a lot more basic
respect for Royalty back then and quite apart from that Racism didn’t feature
in everyday conversation nearly as much as it does now. If we indulged in
prejudice and bigotry we certainly didn’t realise it. My Grandmother focussed more on the coronation
of the previous Monarch, George V which was also held in June but way back in
1911 and followed hard on the heels of the Empire Festival at Crystal
Palace. She and her Edgar had joined the
throngs lining the streets outside the Abbey together with Little Maggie and
Nellie and Martha and Maudie, all waving flags. Maudie was still a baby bless her heart but
she was very knowing even then and she screamed blue murder until she got her
own flag. All of the little buggers
dropped their flags when Edgar bought them toffee apples of course but then
what else could you expect? It was
unclear as to whether there had been a street party back then or if in fact the
family managed to get back to Maxim Road, Crayford to take part in it if there
was.
There
was no chance of us missing the York Road party all those years later
because the day’s various activities had been cleverly staggered in order that
none of us should miss a single moment of the fun if at all possible. In fact the very first event was the Fancy
Dress Parade and I was definitely going to take part as a Crinoline Lady. My mother had always been overly fond of
Crinoline Ladies and bought endless embroidery kits featuring them which became
table cloths and cushions. She had
also become adept over the years at making costumes out of crepe paper and now
I can see she harboured a strong creative streak which when I was young I
failed to appreciate. Using an old
petticoat or similar suitable garment as the base, frill upon frill of pink and
blue crepe were attached to great effect and in no time at all I emerged from
number 28 looking for all the world like an extra in Gone With The Wind. You can see why I felt sure I would win one
of the prizes – jigsaw puzzles of the golden coach, but of course even back
then the prizes went to those who had come as cardboard boxes or balls of wool,
and that’s always been the case. Anyway
my poor mother was more disappointed than I was.
So
we didn’t miss the street party and I even had time to change out of my crepe
paper costume back into whatever else I was required to wear that day before
attacking the fish paste sandwiches, lemon jellies and jam doughnuts that were
piled up on the trestle tables in the road.
I don’t know where the tables had come from but Alan Bardoe said
knowledgeably that they had been hired.
I had no real idea of what that meant at the time. We did have to bring our own chairs,
however. During the party our
photographs were taken many times and then we sang songs before dispersing,
most of us towards the Talent Competition which was taking place outside The
Prince Albert in Shepherd Street.
It
had inevitably been suggested that I enter the event singing Bless This House
or even We’ll Meet Again but I did not have the confidence in my singing voice
that my mother had. Molly, who had a
much better voice than I did, considered entering with a Doris Day song, favouring
The Silvery Moon but changed her mind.
In the end it seemed that only the more determined and hardy souls among
us or maybe just those with the pushiest mothers actually fronted up to display our talents on the day.
Rita
Jenkins did a tap dance dressed as a Dutch doll and wearing one of her famous
embroidered bonnets of which she seemed to have a great many. In my opinion she was now becoming too old to
emulate dolls of any description and in any case now I had reached the great
age of thirteen I had stopped being jealous of her for being allowed dancing
lessons in the first place - and I had been thirteen for a number of hours. So I agreed
with Molly when she observed that Rita had done quite well. A girl with a great deal of confidence who
was, her mother said, as keen as mustard on ballet, performed what seemed like
a complicated ballet routine whilst an elderly relative played a piano
accompaniment from inside the pub. There
wasn’t wholehearted approval of her because apparently she wasn’t local enough. A
small group from the Baptist Sunday School sang a rousing hymn and Betty Haddon
sang Alice Blue Gown which she was always willing to sing given half a
chance. Little Elsie from Buckingham
Road who was wheelchair bound was supposed to recite a poem about a mouse but
she got an attack of nerves at the last minute and burst into tears instead.
As
we watched Molly said that we should have performed a One Act Play because
there were plenty to choose from that needed just two actors. Although both of us at that time were keen
on a future in acting, me in the London Theatre and she in Hollywood, I was
quite glad that we had avoided it on this occasion. Serious acting I felt was not going to earn total
support in York Road and in any case I didn’t really know any one act plays for
two performers and I doubted if Molly did either. Later she said well if we couldn’t find one
in the library we could have written one ourselves and I was even more
doubtful.
There
were a number of other hopeful contestants but most of them I have no memory of
at all. To my mind in any case the star
of the show was most definitely Colin Bardoe, Alan’s twin, who had a good,
strong singing voice and sang a song about dying in the desert under the Libyan
sun which was very sad. I can still
remember him with his head held high and plenty of dramatic gestures. I can’t actually recall if he did win the
five shilling postal order but he certainly should have done. As far as I recollect he didn't even have a pushy mother. No
matter what the neighbours thought of Colin, and back then his insistence on
playing with the girls rather than the boys did provoke a certain amount of
disapproval, he had a lively and engaging personality coupled with an ability most
of us lacked. Of all the contestants he
is the one who still stands out vividly in memory for me.
Of
course by 1953 a number of our neighbours had already acquired television sets
on the Never-Never and were watching the proceedings at Westminster from the
comfort of their living rooms but mostly with the street doors open so they
could exit with ease if something more exciting happened outside. The
more generous hearted among them invited a selection of the neighbours to join
the viewing and some of the Best Front Rooms, normally only used at Christmas,
were filled to bursting point with interested adults standing or perched on the
sides of sofas and children crammed on the floor.
Our
family was not to feature among those who could afford modern technology for
some years to come and even Aunt Mag was not to reach that dizzy zenith until
1955 so I suggested to Molly, who was in the same situation, that we simply
peer through windows from time to time which we did. Meanwhile my little brother waited hopefully
for Hedley Davis to invite him in because Hedley had told him the Davis family
were definitely going to buy a TV set in time for the Coronation. Whether they did or not I still don’t know but poor Bernard definitely wasn't invited in.
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