The alarm rings, it's 3.45am. 

The excitement kicks in. My mum and I get ready and head out to a quiet street and head to the tube.  

It's 4.30am when we get aboard the underground and already conversations are starting between groups of people as numbers grow in the carriage.   

There were two ways of working out if someone was heading to the coronation, a) they were decked out in red, white and blue or b) they were armed with walking boots and a camping chair. I fell into category A.  

Why did I go? I think the main part is history. This is the first coronation in my lifetime, and I have never had the chance to attend a royal event.  

A special part of being a journalist is that throughout your career you are fortunate to witness moments that will go down in history. This was something nice to do with my family and witness first-hand.  

We aimed for the mall for 6am, arriving around 5.30am to a small throng of people arriving to find a spot. You have to applaud those that made the decision to camp out, it’s not something I could do.  

Throughout the day we spoke to people who hailed from Australia and Kansas City as well as Seattle and Luton.  

There is a joy in sharing your experiences and culture. Every one of those people had a reason they wanted to be there and it was nice to share in the experience. If someone managed to get a nice picture, numbers were shared and pictures exchanged. 

It made the nine hours go reasonably quickly and while the emergency ponchos worked overtime, our spirits weren’t dampened. 

The procession, huddling around the one phone which could get wifi to show the service, and then the arrival back to the palace each brought a flurry of excitement through the crowd. 

Then when the barriers  opened to let the crowds walk up for the King’s walk onto the balcony and flypast, you were swallowed up in the sea of celebration.