IT came in a box that could have accommodated a morbidly obese elephant. It consisted of so much wood that it could fairly be described as a sophisticated forest and it took up most of the bottom end of the living room. In its centre, lay a screen the size of Alan Partridge’s breakfast plate.
This was 1970 and it was a colour television. It was the family’s first foray into decadence, ironically just as the sixties had ended, and the box arrived with a late run to coincide with the greatest World Cup ever with the most fabulous, exciting and enthralling international side ever.
