- Vol. 04
- Chapter 10
Only played that Wurlitzer once, most boxes had glass tops, selections on cards, easy to change as the hit parade renewed each week.
In Guernsey, after Go Karts, at the café by the track, pocket money went on Beatles, Stones, early Cream.
Each track, A or B side, held up like a lollypop, laid on the centre cone. The arm clicked over, bobbed over the warps.
My dad, who saw no value in anything without an orchestra, was generous, admitted they had some melody.
As clear as yesterday, knowing that satisfaction, feeling free to bring them in over our sausage and chips.