Forty years ago, a young Arch was taken downstairs to our landlord's flat, in the drawer that served as a cot for her first few weeks, to watch the whole thing on one of the two TV's in the house (a big place, converted to flats).
After the landing, but before the exit and moonwalk, (There was some considerable wait), one of the landlord's daughters asked if it was on the other channel too. They turned over, and it wasn't. They tried to turn back (probably tuning via a dial), and couldn't get the moon back. Cue the whole party, landlord, landlady, aged aunts, children, Mum and Dad and me in my drawer, racing up to the only other flat with a TV, and crowding in there for the Giant Leap.
Afterwards, it was noticed that the landlord was missing. He'd slipped out of the crowded flat, back downstairs, and found the Moon landing again, and watched it all in perfect peace and glorious isolation, champagne in hand.