Our pleasures were simple; there were plenty of parties. Mum and Dad took any excuse to have one, all birthdays, etc. The little parlour would be filled to overflowing, with Mum and Dad aften [sic] sitting in the passage looking in through the open door. I had to play a piece or two on the piano, and sometimes a German friend would play the violin (I only knew him as “Otto”). Everyone had their one special song to sing, usually three verses, and the chorus twice after each verse: even [?], who had no voice to speak of, usually managed “Two little girls in blue” or, “To be a farmers boy”.