The quality of music is not strained. It rumbles as the gentle train to Chesham.

At one point I realised that I had a great big foolish grin on my face. I was singing along, even to the Italian songs, well, as much as I could remember. I was carried away with the euphoria of it all. This was the music I had listened to on my trusty Dansette all those years ago. This was the music I loved.