Sorry, don’t remember that one.
Re cat’s eye TV logo…
I think it’s this, Véronique. ABC then ATV, Central TV (West Midlands). I remember it in B/W TV.
Yes! For some reason I remembered 3 eyes… but I may also be confusing it with some French, Monégasque or Italian television station (we got all 3 when I was tiny).
Thé silver Knight on his horse. Anglia tv
What about Blue Peter with its lovely galleon emblem…
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I love the theme to the shipping forecast.
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One if the gréât tragédies of my life: I was sent a blue peter badge and at fifteen decided it was a childish toy and threw it out!!!
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It’s a piece of music that, for me, is most exactly matched to its title, “Sailing By”.
The gentle swell of the sea, the breeze in the sail and rigging, the sun sparkling on the water, even the smell of salt…an incredible evocation.
I’m not a sailor, though!
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[quote=“Caroline, post:67, topic:26061, full:true”] “I was sent a blue peter badge …and threw it out!!!”
[/quote]
Oh dear! 
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Victor Meldrew moment!
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Haven’t seen conkers, marbles, cigarette cards, bin men, any old iron, corner shop, trams, trolley bus and a lot more I’m sure. Shall have to do some deep thinking. The past gets hazy!
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Relax, @Bonzocat/Bruce.
After a while the present gets hazy, like steamed up spectacles; give them a wipe and the past will re-appear, warm, bright and inviting. But you’ll go back alone…
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Virol.
Humphrey Lestoq was Whirligig and Muffin was Annette Mills.
She played the piano and he danced on it.
Peregrine the penguin too.
Threepenny coins. Or “thrupenny bits” as they https://images.app.goo.gl/WDQMbqqim75kKomU8
were commonly known.
Taking your list as a starter. My father taught me to double de clutch at racing speed down a long and steep hill; in fact it was one of the last things he did before he died. I was 17! My first car was a 1935 Austin 7 Pearl cabriolet which I bought via Exchange and Mart for £35. Add words dicky seat, boat tail, Oeco exhaust booster", gobstoppers, Horrids (for Harrods), toasting fork (for toasting bread for senior boys as an underschool, a sort of fag, as in Tom Brown’s schooldays), thrashing (frequent on the bare bum for even minor crimes, once 22 of us were beaten because nobody would own up to leaving a few broad beans on a plate), dorm fight, sports days (dreading the extreme competition, beingashamed of one’s parents if they didn’t have a Bentley and our family’s picnic was a drab affair compared to the ghastly boy’s parents parked next to yours), being caughtscrumping and reported to your father, breaking a neighbour’s window with a catapault, filling my father’s petrol talk with water at age 6, being caught with alcohol in my tuck box by a prefect and being given a strict talking to by my housemaster, being caught absent without permission from my school, Aldermaston march, Committee of 100, Brighton Art School, beat poetry, Jack Kerouac, cycling miles and miles in complete freedom over southern England without a helmet, drinking scrumpy, smoking Sobranie Black Russian and Disques Bleues, my first pair of Levis to my mother’s horror, my dear mother forcing me to have ballroom dancing lessons so I could meet “nice” girls at the tennis and golf clubs, “Save the Last Dance for Me”, "“Come outside, There’s a Lovely Moon Out There”, getting completely drunk on champagne at a very posh hotel in Scotand, a dinner dance at The Savoy Hotel. OMG it’s all coming back!
Yeah, they were silver, weren’t they?
My prep school in Sussex was run by an ex army officer along military lines. Parades every morning. Chest out stomach in, stand straight, clean nails. Canings were almost daily. There were charts for everything; somebody recentkly published some on the internet and there is my name (very near the top I am pleased to read!). The outside swimming pool was unheated and we all swam in the nude with the masters watching (oh dear!), the headmaster had a rck of canes as well and each cane had its name on a brass plate below. I fell over the staircase sliding down the banister and broke a bone in a dorm fight. Were we damaged? Quite possibly yes.
I “met” Archie Andrews as peter Brough’s son was at my school!
Syrup of figs.
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