Coronation Day

 

Subject: Coronation Day .



“The past is a foreign country they do things differently there”.
The grey sky’s of an overcast June day in 1953 did nothing to lower the spirits of the faithful public gathered down the Mall, around the Abby and outside Buckingham Palace waiting a glimpse of the Royal Coach with its diminutive, ever so young Princess soon to be Queen Elizebeth. Richard Dimbleby’s silky soothing tones was describing the scene and for the first time the Television cameras let us in on the show as the pomp of the world gathered to witness the crowning of someone who symbolically represented 56 countries across the globe.
It was announced on that day that Hillary and Tenzing had climbed Everest for the first time in a British Climbing Expedition and was seen as a fitting climax to our role as a nation of some importance, or so it was seen in my eyes as a 13 year old. The Great and the Good were gathered in Westminster Abbey, Kings and Queens, Presidents, Lords and Lady’s with the commoners outside standing on tip toe, in genuine awe of their betters.
The television pictures were in black and white and yet lost nothing of the pageantry
as Dimbleby, sotto voiced described this veritable who’s who, gathered from across the four corners of the world to bend their knee in allegiance to this ever so slight young woman sitting on the ornate chair where Kings and Queens had undergone the same ceremony down the centuries. She seemed tiny, as she balanced on her head the huge jewelled crown as the flummery’s of state and church wove their web of incense, whilst reciting the words of antiquity which, had we known it then was fast disappearing.
Is it any wonder as a boy brought up to such a sense of importance I somewhat resent the claims now made on our country regarding reparations. The leaders of the countries gathered there were not obliged to come, were not whipped into place by a First Secretary, they came because at that time we were seen as the constitutional head of an amalgam of nations who’s respect was not obligatory but seemed appropriate.
Todays Coronation lacks the impetus of political power, instead the commoners will be right in their sharing, cheek by jowl the pews with the mighty.  “Who in their right mind would have thowt it”, my Gran would have said but as we evolve from a powerful nation to one unsure of its role in the world, as we strive to impress even our own people that we have some significance then the new King, having waited in the wings for such a long time and been so controversial in his choices of bride will smile benignly on the gathered crowd, waving the royal wave, the horses clip clopping, the flunkies in their gold braid tunics hoping the horses don’t bolt, the security on tenterhooks praying that some Republican crank doesn’t highjack proceedings.
The almost emotional echo within the Abbey, old interned dignitaries keeping a watching eye on the present lot, the organs triumphant notes heralding the arrival and then the departure of our King.
I would be a headless chicken if I didn’t admit to feel a sense of proud nostalgia and pride  as one sees a parade of regimental splendour move in towards the Abbey. The streets are damp rather than wet but nothing dampens the spirits and nothing surmounts the show this tiny island puts on in times like this. Nothing the Europeans, the Asians, or the Americans do compares with this link of past and present. One of the things I miss is the encyclopedic dialogue given by Richard Dimbleby, of who was who in the Abbey, an almost ‘who’s who’ of people who were the leading lights in a world which seemed so much more stable in 1953.  No internet we were partially ignorant in those days but not so now as almost daily, the events of those very different societies flood onto our screens. No need for teargas in this country though, well not yet.
LONG LIVE THE KING.