The approach of the summer holidays brings the prospect of a return visit to Somerset, and my parents’ home which I left in 1983 to get married.
Back with my parents in Somerset last summer my mother said, ‘Oh, by the way, I found your records’.
‘Mum’, I said, ‘I don’t have any records. I don’t have anything on which to play any records’.
‘Well, look in that box in the hall’. I looked. There were about fifty black vinyl 45 r.p.m. records, most of them in their original sleeves. …