I don’t understand why exactly, but today was a funny day. Me dad and me finished building a bunker in the back garden (for coal you dimwit, there was no war going on at the time!)
I also took the dog for a walk, and noted that the World Cup was going to start tomorrow. ’31 days of pure football’, quoth I, although looking back now, it was only 29.
I went to bed at ten to 1, having watched a programme about the summer of 1966. Apparently, something went on that year that hasn’t happened again since…
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