Nearly 50 years ago, not many homes had a radio playing pop music. My older sister, then a young teenager, and her friends would hang around in the evenings outside the pub in our street hoping somebody'd put their favourite songs on the jukebox.
After a run of Matt Monroe, Val Doonican and Ken Dodd they'd wander off, discouraged.

Then suddenly one of them would catch a note or two of the Stones or the Beatles, or my sister's favourite, Donovan, and alert the others, and they'd all charge down the street together to the pub door to listen.

What great fun they had! I bet they never enjoyed music again as much.
(Juan Quar is clinging to her front teeth on, Thu 5 Sep 2013, 9:39, 1 reply)

Even better.
Now the equivalent is my phone, sitting 4" from my hand as a type.
(username failed moderation, Thu 5 Sep 2013, 11:54, closed)