On the day itself we woke up to the news on the radio that Everest had been conquered and watched the coronation procession and ceremony on our new 10-inch screen black and white television - one of the first in the street, with a full household of my aunt and uncle and neighbours crowding round the small screen. I wore my yellow taffeta party dress in honour of the occasion.
A few weeks later we all trooped in a long crocodile from school to a local cinema to see a film of the conquering of Everest (some of the scenes of men crossing deep ravines frightened me), followed by a film of the coronation, this time in glorious technicolour.
But there was a personal dimension to Coronation Day, as my mother was in hospital for three weeks around that time following a major operation. For my younger brother and myself it was a strange uncertain time, especially as children were not allowed to visit the hospital. Dad talked about the red white and blue decorations that the nurses put up on the wards and Mum won a sweep stake on the Grand National, in picking successful jockey Gordon Richards.
The day Mum came home was emotional as we all burst into tears - and I wore again my party dress to welcome her back to the family.