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and nice,’ one remembered. ‘I liked her and the Princesses certainly did.’ The
expeditions they enjoyed the most were in Windsor Great Park, where they went on
treks, dragging camping equipment in a trek cart; then they would camp, build fires and
cook sausages on sticks and ‘dampers’, an Australian version of sausage-rolls. 3 That was
the closest the Princesses got to ordinary life. Even on their first seaside holiday near
Eastbourne detectives had to accompany them on beach picnics to keep the crowds
away, and when taken as a great treat to have tea in a hotel, it would have to be held
in a private room upstairs.
As soon as they had moved into Buckingham Palace their parents’ Coronation loomed.
The date, 12 May 1937, had originally been set for the Coronation of Edward VIII;
arrangements were so far advanced that it could not now be put off, although thousands
of Edward mugs and cups had to be scrapped and King George VI and Queen Elizabeth
souvenirs hastily manufactured in their place. Dressmakers came and went at the
Palace. The King sat in his study, practising his new signature. He had always signed
himself ‘Albert’; now he had become ‘George, R.I.’, King-Emperor like his father. He had
chosen to call himself George to emphasize the continuity which had so nearly been
dangerously broken with the brief reign of Edward VIII. He also practised wearing the
heavy crown which he would wear on Coronation Day, an event which he was not
looking forward to. Any public ceremonial occasion is a nightmare for a stammerer; not
only would he be the star player, but also there was no way in which the ancient rite
could be changed to avoid words which were difficult for him. Bets were laid in the City
that he would not be up to the occasion; there were rumours about the state of his
physical and mental health, even that he was an epileptic. The Archbishop of
Canterbury and the Earl Marshal, the Duke of Norfolk, had come to the conclusion that
the actual ceremony could be filmed but not televised. The Archbishop was said to fear
that people might disrespectfully watch it in pubs; in any case at that time transmissions
could be seen only within a twenty-five-mile radius from the Crystal Palace transmitter.
The real reason, however, as the Archbishop noted privately in his papers, was that
television offered no possibility of censorship should the King break down during the
ceremony. The King practised dutifully with his therapist, Lionel Logue. With Logue’s
help and the Queen’s encouragement, he had gone a long way towards mastering his
stammer, but the pauses were still painfully noticeable and he dreaded broadcasting
above all things. For him, the post-Coronation broadcast would be much more of an
ordeal than the ceremony itself.
Elizabeth had been thoroughly prepared for the day by Queen Mary, who had
provided a colour panorama of George IV’s Coronation to instruct her granddaughters in
the full symbolism of the event and the curious-sounding names of all the participating
officials. The Princesses could be sure that, whatever happened, their slim, elegant
father would cut a better figure in satin breeches, silk stockings and ermine robes than
the excessively corpulent George IV. When the day came, Elizabeth kept an account of it
specially for her parents, written in pencil on lined paper bound with pink silk ribbon
with the title ‘The Coronation, 12 May 1937. To Mummy and Papa. In Memory of Their