THERE comes a time for family treasures to be passed on and, in the case of King Charles III, it was the St Edward’s Crown.

Created for Charles II in 1661, it is made of solid gold and features 444 gemstones, including rubies, sapphires, garnets, and tourmalines. Experts have estimated that it is worth between £3 billion and £5 billion.

And, as the world watched the glittering crown being placed on The King’s head at the weekend, I couldn’t help comparing it to a treasure that was being passed down the line in my own family. Dating back a mere 47 years, it’s worth buttons – but it’s priceless to us.

The treasure in question is a Pearly King costume, featuring hundreds of red, white and blue buttons, painstakingly sewn on to a jacket, trousers and cap by my Mum for Queen Elizabeth’s Silver Jubilee celebrations.

Mum was a post-lady back then and, when she ran out of white buttons while making the Pearly King costume, she supplemented her supply by nicking the spare buttons from the official Royal Mail shirts worn by the postmen she worked with.

The costume has gone on to stand the test of time and has served three generations of children well.

My brother, Paul, came first, wearing it to win three fancy-dress competitions in 1977. 

Twenty-five years later, the costume helped my son, Jack, win a fancy-dress competition, marking The Queen’s Golden Jubilee in our home village of Hurworth-on-Tees.

And then, just last year, my granddaughter, Chloe, borrowed it when the participants in the Darlington Junior Parkrun were invited to wear something patriotic for The Queen’s Platinum Jubilee.

Each time, the Pearly King costume was dutifully returned to the safety of my Mum’s bedroom wardrobe, where it has been kept for nearly 50 years, such was her pride in her creation.

Last Friday, on the eve of the Coronation, the Pearly King costume was in demand again when the children at Chloe’s school were urged to mark the occasion by wearing fancy-dress.

But this time – at the age of 91 – my Mum has decided that it’s time to let go of the Pearly King costume for good.

“You keep it now,” she told Chloe’s dad. “There’s no point me keeping it anymore.”

So, the Pearly King costume that glitters with the buttons of Teesside postmen from yesteryear will now hang in a different wardrobe.

It may seem trivial compared to a crown worth billions of pounds, but it will be treasured until the next generation needs it.

Thanks, Mum.