It was sixty years ago today
(shewhomust has heard this so often, I suggest she reads no further.)
Sixty years ago I was nearly five and my brother nearly two. We lived with our parents in two rooms in a house in Forest Hill (London SE23). That morning my brother had been twiddling the knobs on our wireless (as we called them). A little later when my mother turned on the radio she could not get it to play. We blamed my brother for breaking it.
It was only in the late afternoon when my father returned from work that we learned that the King had died and that consequently the BBC was not broadcasting except for the scheduled news bulletins.
Sixty years ago I was nearly five and my brother nearly two. We lived with our parents in two rooms in a house in Forest Hill (London SE23). That morning my brother had been twiddling the knobs on our wireless (as we called them). A little later when my mother turned on the radio she could not get it to play. We blamed my brother for breaking it.
It was only in the late afternoon when my father returned from work that we learned that the King had died and that consequently the BBC was not broadcasting except for the scheduled news bulletins.