They played all Second World War songs such as We'll Meet Again. Everyone was dancing in the street.
"The thing I remember most of all is one of the ladies who lived a bit further down the street had a daughter who played the piano-accordion, and I thought it was the most marvellous thing," said Sylvia.
"I thought, `One day I want to play the piano-accordion.' But that is my main memory of VE Day.
"My father had been killed at sea and my mother was working at sea and I had been brought up by my grandmother, who had very strict Victorian ideals and we weren't really allowed to play out in the street.
"So this was a complete contrast. Long tables down the street, bunting and flags and the kids running around like mad. Things we didn't do normally.
"And the music, it was just absolutely wonderful.
They played the Isle of Capri and all Second World War songs such as We'll Meet Again. Everyone was dancing in the street.
"We lived in at the top of the hill in Ladykirk Road and could see Dunston Power Station.
"But VE Day meant the difference between going to school during the day and being frightened of the bombs at night to all of a sudden a situation where all the pressure had lifted.
"There seemed to be sweets that we didn't have before, although thinking back, there probably wasn't really, it's just people had saved their rations up for sugar and such."
Sylvia went on: "My grandmother was terribly ladylike and this dancing in the street was really so unlike her. But she didn't get fully involved, she stood back.
"But what I remember most of all, of course, is the fact that so many women who were there had lost husbands and sons.
"As an eight-year-old, the most romantic thing of all was that piano-accordion. I thought, `How wonderful, so glamorous.'
"Funny how little girls think like that. That was my focus for the day.
"There were loads of people there ( all the street seemed to turn out ( and there were three blocks in the street. The road was dissected by the streets and the top didn't mingle with the middle and the middle didn't mingle with the bottom."
Sylvia was born in 1937 and the boarding school she was bound for was the Royal Merchant Navy School at Bearwood in Berkshire.
"But at that time I was at Cannon Street and I went away in the September after the War ended," said Sylvia.
"My father and mother both served in the Merchant Navy and my father actually died in the service.
"A lot of children from the North East went to that school, especially from South Shields.
"I'm still in touch with people from those days, I'm vice-president of the old boys' and girls' association and I'm in touch with people all over the world.
"It was a terrific culture shock. Can you imagine children from Tyneside going to the middle of the country, seeing trees we'd never seen? Especially as we went after the War, because during the war we were restricted to where we went.
"A lot of children were from the slums, and to be suddenly thrust into the countryside was absolutely wonderful.
"People don't realise how dependent we were on the Merchant Navy.My mother went back and forwards on convoys.
"The company offered her a job when my father died because she had no pension. So she had to go away and left me, a nine-month-old child, with her mother.
"On one trip the ship in front of her was torpedoed and the ship behind was torpedoed, but she got through each time.
"On her last trip the ship was carrying TNT, but my mother didn't know that until they got to Suez.
"She was in the Indian Ocean when Pearl Harbour fell and that was the last trip she did. She was too worried about me, really, because my grandmother was getting old.
"I've had a hard life but I've also had a good education and I've been happy."