TUESDAY 2nd JUNE 1953. The day began for us at 0530, a bleak wet and horrid day. It became all too clear as time went that the weather was not going to fine up and we resigned ourselves to a thorough soaking. We walked down to the horse lines opposite the Horse Guards Barracks in Knightsbridge and were in the saddle by 0730. The mounts, particularly Dan’s grey, and my chestnut, were upset by the rain and gave promise of a lively time ahead. We questioned them a little pushing them back to Kensington Gardens at a full gallop to collect Dan’s lanyard but we could see we were going to ye strife.All Colonial Ruler’s and Prime Minister’s Escorts moved off true to time at 0825 with swords at the slope and moved down constitution Hill to the Palace, the grounds of which we entered by the South Carriage Entrance and formed up in the Inner courtyard as a troop. As our charges moved off we fell in behind them and moved to the Abbey by the route so well known ~. The tumult began as soon as we entered the Mall and gradually increased in volume as we progressed. To the distress he horses (which were fortunately so well trained that they remained more or less controllable) people created the din of all time. thousands of voices roared in enthusiasm, aided by bands, rattles, tins, cymbals, trumpets and every other noise creating implement available.I cannot talk of the overall picture of the Procession, for the group in which I served was only a tiny part of the magnificent whole and you people heard it and saw it on film have a much better idea of the kaleidoscopic events. Having escorted the prime minister to the Abbey we then trotted up Little Tothill Street and entered Wellington Barracks. Where for four hours in pouring rain we stood to our horses. We held them, two on and two off, the latter pair taking advantage of the break to fortify  themselves against the weather by the intake of fiery, issue rum. Issue in name only for unfortunately it was not given away however, I’m sure the investment was a good one, in that coughs, colds, influenza, pneumonia and pleurisy were averted. Amazingly the tumult of the forward ride was almost as nothing compared with the noise of the return of the main procession. It was tremendous. The horses danced and pranced but we were fortunate in holding them except for one little incident in trafalgar Square when Dan Peifke’s mount charged out and ahead. However he brought him back in fine style greatly admired by the crowd. And so the great march went on  a spectacle that will probably never be seen again in our lifetime – a spectacle so grand and glorious and edifying that it will live in my memory forever.When we finally returned to the “Coronation Horse Lines” I was saturated and numb with cold. 1 had been forced to grip the wet reins so hard that skin was torn off my left hand. How I dismounted I don’t know, but when I was on the ground I was so stiff I could straighten up only with difficulty, and it was four days before the soreness went. We returned to the Gardens, I for one determined to have a hot bath and a change, but as no hot water was available I simply changed my jacket and with two colleagues into town 1 went. That night all London and thousands from the provinces crowded London and went Mad.piccadilly and the M were just great milling throngs – impossible to move. There was dancing and pole climbing and Dan did two somersaulting Piccadilly Circus. And so the night went on with the pubs officially open until midnight and unofficially much later. Merriment was still rife when I finally crawled in to bed at 3.30am . completely exhausted                               

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