While watching the Coronation last weekend I was left pondering, as you so often do at these occasions, at whether folk six-foot deep in the crowds could actually see the King as he trundled past.

I say this as someone who once spent hours patiently waiting for a global figure to make a rare visit to the UK only to completely miss setting eyes on him.

The year was 1982. Pope John Paul II was making an historic visit to Canterbury. It was a big deal at the time; in fact later that same day he went on to address 80,000 people at Wembley Stadium.

My mother decided to take me along to see the Kent occasion.

It was strange, on reflection, as my family subscribe to no form of organised religion. Which was handy, because otherwise missing the old chap as he drove slowly along would have perhaps been more spiritually troubling.

But given it was a once-in-a-lifetime visit, we went along to soak up the atmosphere.

Having got there in good time, we took up a prime position on Sun Street, not far from the entrance to the cathedral.

I can remember little about it other than the weather was good (I assume Pope-y had put in a good word with the Big Man) and the crowd convivial. We stood in the front row and I had taken a camera along to capture the moment of him driving past.

As excitement mounted, the pontiff in his Popemobile was clearly about to pass us.

I lifted the camera to my face and got ready to snap the ideal shot.

The only problem was I was pointing the camera too low...the Pope’s vehicle drove past and all I saw was his foot. I’m not sure I even saw that. So shocked was I at my misjudgement, I failed to take any pictures. By the time I realised my almighty cock-up I was too late to look up and catch a glimpse of him.

Rather disappointed, my patient mother – who probably wasn’t intending this to be a full day out – placated me by promising we could try and spot him again on his way out.

So we took up a spot in, if memory serves me correctly, Guildhall Street. Again, we waited some time. Again we’d got to the front. Again I was to be denied.

I did get to see the King – or plain old Prince Charles as he was then – drive out, but just before the Pope was due to follow him, there were – as I remember it – concerns of a gas leak in the area.

While good enough for the future monarch to take the risk, clearly the Pope’s insurance policy wouldn’t cover him.

The long and the short of it? The Pope left the city by another route. I never did get to see him.

It would be another 30-odd years before I finally set eyes on a Pope – not the same one, naturally, this was Pope Francis – when he drove through St Peter’s Square at the Vatican. We were just walking past at the time and didn’t expect such a drive-by.

I saw him. I onlyl then took a long-distance couple of photos of him. Then I rang my mum and told her I could finally put the disappointment of 1982 behind me.