Memories

 

I have some odd recollections. When I was young, in the days when everything was in black and white. We had a family tradition. Pinky and Perky (Ok, greyey and greyer ) on the TV, the sound of the ice cream van, Dad nipping out to get the Sunday treat. One disastrous evening, just before 'TinTin' (Hergés Adventures Of) the TV refused to form a picture. Sound, ok, after the valves had warmed up, but no picture. Mum didn't know what was wrong, but thought the tube had blown, and Dad who worked late (well, late to a 5 year old) would know what to do when he got home. Dr Who was even more frightening without pictures.

Now, do you remember the old plastic hose pipe? The green stuff with sharpish ribs along it? The stuff that went brittle, and burst so easily? Well I thought that Dad would get a bit of that and a couple of those shiny things (jubilee clips, as it turns out) and fix the telly. You know, replace the tube.  

A year later, we didn't have to worry about a  telly that wouldn't work, because we had bought a farm in the wilds of North Yorkshire. No electricity for the next 13 years, and no time to watch the thing anyway.