During lockdown many people have been lucky, once they’ve had enough of Lorraine on This Morning, to have a subscription to Netflix, Amazon Prime or have a reel of an 8mm cinefilm they found in the loft, to watch to while away the times they’ve been stuck indoors.

Imagine if this had happened in the 60s, assuming we’d had the technology?   Would we have binge-watched all 431 episodes of Bonanza? Had Zoom calls talking about ‘have you got to the episode when Hoss goes to the dentist yet?’

Today we have a plethora of Scandinavian murders to watch.  In the 60s, in my Balham flat where I’d be hoping perhaps this week I might see Alexandra Bastedo naked, I’d not even heard of Scandinavia, (these were the times when Iceland was still Bejam) let alone know what noir meant (I thought he played for Paris St-Germain).

The problem with many of these series is that eventually they have to insert a dream sequence.  You never got that with Tales of the Riverbank – suddenly Hammy wakes up and Southfork has been sold!

On far too late for a youngster like me, the daily eight-minutes of The Epilogue would have made a good box-set.  Although would it have been worth waiting for the big fight scene at the end between the Devil and St Michael?

But there were always circuses to fall back on.  60 years ago, to this day, on the BBC, there was Chipperfield’s Circus starring Mr Pastry – remembering how annoying he was, I’m hoping it was the episode when he gets eaten by a lion.  Too soon?