I don’t generally dance in museums. I don’t dance much at all. Actually.
But there I was, dancing away in Falkenberg museum’s 1950s café, and all because of the jukebox. It was playing as we got there, which was rather nice. I forget what, but one of the standard 1950s singles we all know and love.
I wasn’t the craziest one. Daughter went one worse and not only wiggled bits of her body, but dug out the princely sum of 1 krona to play one more record. They were all good songs, but in the end she plumped for Bill Haley and we rocked around the clock a bit.
Luckily no one else was there to witness this behaviour, apart from the Resident IT Consultant, and he doesn’t count.
I want a jukebox of my own!