Fast forward to 1957. I'm 14 and I have to do homework, every Sunday morning, in our front room in West End. There's no way Tom Clayton, next door and aged 30 - my "boyfriend" when I was a toddler, is getting a lie-in as I do my Maths, French etc. to a musical accompaniment from my collection of 78s and it's likely to be:-
Despite thick walls between us, poor Tom is going to be wakened.
