A late submission in memory of a day to remember and a day best forgot.
The Swinging Sixties
The summers of my youth, when the most avant-garde experience might have been listening to a trad-jazz combo in the park. And if the sun was...
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I've no idea who the child is or why the donkey seems to have lost its head, but that doesn't matter. It's just one of the pri... -
Y ou can spend too long sat inside reading old newspapers and cataloguing old postcards. There comes a time in the affairs of man when he s...
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