Monday, 4 February 2013

Made Glorious Summer Holiday?

Alas not. 

I had hoped that the Richard whose remains had been found in Leicester might have been Sir Cliff Richard.

It was in Leicester that my late father, as a curate in the 1950s, was deputed to take the church youth club to see Cliff Richard.

His young charges became so excited that they smashed up the theatre, breaking my father's arm. It was never quite right again.

During the previous decade and a half, Rommel, Mussolini and the Irgun had all failed to injure him as the future Sir Cliff was to manage.

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