There I was, waving a Union Jack as the Queen’s entourage swept past. It was a brilliant Canberra Day, and I, along with all the other students at Griffith Infants School, had been lining the procession route in Canberra for hours.
It was a meticulously planned tour back in 1954, but there were spontaneous moments. My then 12-year-old sister, Katerina, and her best friend, Beatrice Jay, were frolicking around the rickety old wooden Molonglo River Bridge, which was on the way to the Canberra Airport, when the Queen’s party swept past.
