We had a jukebox, a replica Wurlitzer, in the hall at Fyfield, with all the different changing-colour lights, rising bubbles and so forth, and I remember Imogen being absolutely fascinated by it. She used to sit in her nappy holding her milk and watch the jukebox in the hall quite happily for half an hour or so before she’d get bored and wriggle off again.
Repeted paragraph
