About a mile down the road there's a hidden cave...
Many years ago, when Lady Bracknell and her contemporaries were of an age when the schoolroom was not yet an issue, and when their days were spent "helping" their mothers to make pastry, or to pass freshly-laundered sheets through the mangle, there were no television programmes during the day; no videos; no audio cassettes; no DVDs; and no computer games.
There were, however, a number of radio broadcasts dedicated both to amusing the little ones, and to providing their harried mothers with a chance to sit down for a well-deserved cup of tea.
The fact that today's under-fives are often to be heard innocently repeating wholly unsuitable lyrics from songs recorded by popular beat combos grieves Lady Bracknell deeply. Where are the child-oriented lyrics of yesteryear? Where is Puff, the Magic Dragon? Why do the Three Little Fishies no longer swim and swim? Do teddybears have no time for picnics in the twenty-first century? Has Nellie the Elephant retired? Does the King have no further need of new clothes?
Readers over the age of forty are encouraged to wallow in nostalgia here: although they should be warned that doing so is highly likely to result in any offpsring they may have, or any young persons they may know, sidling away from them with embarrassment.
Who will join Lady Bracknell in a rousing rendition of the Happy Wanderer?
All together, now:
"Val de ree, val de rah
Val de ree, val de ra ha ha ha ha ha
Val de ree, val de rah
My knapsack on my back"