letters - guilty pleasures
With every paragraph of Dave Simpson’s article, my heart skipped a beat (Oh the shame, August 6). I can barely contain the excitement. As for other guilty pleasures, how about Sam, by Olivia Newton John, circa 1977. Before all that Grease b***, she was the girl next door. I was only nine, but would have been over the fence in a flash.
Jon Clements, Staniforth