TEENAGER Roy Ibson attracted a crowd when he clambered on to the roof of a six-storey Oxford building to fly the flag for the Queen’s Coronation.

The waiter at the George Restaurant didn’t think twice when the manager asked him to fix a flag to the pole high above the ground.

He recalls: “I was young and just did it.”

It wasn’t until the following day, when he read the Oxford Mail, that he realised a crowd had gathered at the corner of Cornmarket Street and George Street, gasping as they watched his daring feat.

The George was a high-class establishment, with a ground- floor bar, and a restaurant and banqueting rooms on the next two floors.

The National Provincial Bank shared the ground floor. The fourth and fifth floors were occupied by a transport company and a firm of solicitors, while the restaurant manager lived at the top.

Mr Ibson was introduced to the George by his mother, Amy, who worked for many years in the banqueting suite.

He worked there from 1951-4, training as a waiter and then becoming cellarman, before joining the Army.

The George attracted leading figures of the day, including politicians such as Herbert Morrison, sports commentator Raymond Glendenning and stars from the nearby New Theatre, such as the Crazy Gang.

Mr Ibson recalls: “If you wanted somewhere special to eat in Oxford, you went to the Randolph or came to us.”

The head waiter, Mr Blackburn, and his deputy Mr Coleman — “we never knew them by their first names” — insisted that staff were properly dressed, in tails and bow ties.

Staff would work from 10am to 2.30 or 3pm, then be back on duty from 6pm, often until midnight. They were given one day off a week, and allowed to finish early one evening, at 8pm.

Mr Ibson, who now lives at Harpenden, Herts, tells me: “It was a fantastic job, and the food was always excellent. But the hours were long, particularly for a young man chasing the girls!“ He remembers one occasion when part of a ceiling collapsed on to a tray of trifles, splattering Vi, who served the desserts, from head to toe.

And customers were well-advised to make sure they gave a decent tip.

Deputy head waiter Mr Coleman was once so incensed at being given a silver sixpence that he opened the window and threw it into Cornmarket Street, shouting at the somewhat surprised customer: “The poor can have it!”