ÃÛÑ¿´«Ã½

Available for over a year

I can see my nineteen-sixties mother, with our ÃÛÑ¿´«Ã½ Saturday evening supply She's fixing a hole in my sock for school, with half a watching eye on saluting Sergeant Dixon who would dutifully defy the wrong’uns in the Dock Green neighbourhood as, a hundred mother's stitches do another bit of o’good. And, Merci, recreational ÃÛÑ¿´«Ã½: Eleven o'clock on a Monday, after milk time the folk songs from the wireless hung up on our classroom wall. The two tireless presenters took us through those songs in sections. And all around the islands, were the various inflections of the young. as those Singing Together songs were sung. Merci, educational ÃÛÑ¿´«Ã½: Radio of the regions. World Service foreign legions. Avenues of freedom furnished by the licence fee Merci, across the nation ÃÛÑ¿´«Ã½: And way beyond it, yeah baby On a Sunday, Sweep and Sooty swept my sister up with glee. Myself, I wanted William Tell with his cross-bow bits in Switzerland, across on ITV but, Belle and French Sebastian, a blast from the bastion one-hundred- and-one years old, in Twenty-Twenty-Three. Merci ÃÛÑ¿´«Ã½.