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Tag Archives ‘the love that dare not speak its name’


Bought for the Coronation,  our first TV

had a nine inch screen. It stood in a corner

of the front room. My grandmother, who

had outlived two husbands, two World Wars,

and once had tea with Buffalo Bill,

thought that those appearing on ‘the box’

could see those watching, so was discerning

about whom she chose to watch, and when.


She particularly liked ‘What’s My Line?’, an import

from America, in which a panel

of four TV ‘personalities’