Lady Jane Willoughby

ONE OF THE SIX MAIDS OF HONOUR AT THE CORONATION 
OF QUEEN ELIZABETH II IN 1953

Then aged 18

When the news came through, I was on a citizenship course at Ashridge College, which included European history and economics. Rehearsals meant that I missed the current affairs exam, which was the one I hadn't done any work for. Because my father had been Lord Great Chamberlain (from 1950-52), I had attended two state ceremonies as an onlooker, so I wasn't as overawed as I might have been.

I stayed the night before the Coronation in my parents' flat in Westminster Garden. It was dawn when the car came to pick me up, and my father had already gone. When I got to the Abbey, he was sitting in the annexe, absolutely shivering, having been there some time. Daddy didn't have brilliant circulation because he had lost half a leg in the war. The other leg wasn't very good either. I remember queuing to get him a cup of coffee in a plastic beaker from a drinks dispenser. My father's role was to carry St Edwards' Staff in the Regalia processions. We were the only father and daughter with ceremonial roles in the Abbey.

As Maids of Honour, we were terribly spoilt. The four of us who arrived at the Abbey several hours beforehand enjoyed relative comfort and warmth because Mike Parker (Lt Cdr Michael Parker, private secretary to the Duke of Edinburgh) allowed us into a warm robing room. We listened to reports of the procession on a transistor and had nice hot cups of coffee.

We'd had one full dress rehearsal, with the Duchess of Norfolk standing in for the Queen, wearing a sheet. What was so impressive about the Queen was that she mastered all her moves without a rehearsal. They simply pointed out to her the various spots where she was meant to stop or move, so she would know what to expect. The Queen stood amazingly upright, balancing the weight of the crown. It is always impressive seeing somebody move like that, without any bending of the head.

The music just carried you along. Despite the length of the ceremony, everything seemed to be over in a trice. The most moving part of the service was the Anointing, with the Queen in her plain white dress amidst the splendour. After the Crowning, all those taking part had to lift their coronets off and put them back on straight, with one hand. It couldn't have been that easy, and there was a bit of fumbling.

Once it was all over, we settled the Queen and her train back into the coach. Two of the Maids went back to the Palace with her in the following coach and the rest of us were offered lunch in the robing room. I had some really delicious cold fish delicacy and some extremely good white wine. I remember how good it was after school food.

The hard work started once we got back to the Palace. The Queen decided to have all the photographs done while she was robed, so we were for ever shifting the train around for Cecil Beaton. When the Queen went on to the balcony, we went, too. It was an incredible sight - thousands of people as far as the eye could see, all shrieking and yelling.

The only sad thing was that by the time the Queen made her second appearance, the train had been mislaid. Having finished the photographs with the train, Beaton wanted some of her in her Coronation dress. So the train was removed and when the crowds called for her to come out again, no one in the room knew where it had been put. The Queen said: "Well, I'm going out without it." So, unfortunately, we weren't allowed out the second time. 

Reproduced from The Daily Telegraph's 12-page supplement to celebrate the 50th anniversary of the Coronation

- Monday 2nd June 2003

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