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I enjoyed this enormously. Apart from the 'Donald Duck' faux pas with the backing music, this almost had the feel of an Oliver Postgate film. Dreamy, somnolent, affectionate, observational - we have lost something of value here.
Ourselves.
Innocence, pride, time for each other. And did chlldren really dance round a Maypole then? The narrator has a proper Kentish accent, like she wuz spoke, and like my grandad used to speak - before the Mockney outwash took over totally. Hangings are no loss, though, even if they were long gone by the 70s.
What is the point of 'progress' if all it does is make people more alienated and unhappy? Life is supposed to be getting better, not worse.
