Picture this: in the mid-70s, a terraced house in a North England town, on a cold and rainy winter Sunday, mum and dad preparing the roast dinner, mashing the spuds with butter, windows all steamed up, house smelling delicious (even if it was cauliflower), and The Carpenters singing this through the record player:
The Carpenters - For All We Know
Me as a playful, hopeful, optimistic kid then.
Me as a disillusioned, let down, pessimistic adult now.
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