Elvis found in London shop window!

Long before hippies, the hips of Elvis. How they swivelled. My dad, in his old-age, would enjoy listening to Elvis, particularly his love songs. Love me tender, love me true. When Dad died the priest asked what music we’d like at the funeral. I said, ‘Elvis.’ The priest laughed and, sorry to say, I joined in with his laughter. We resorted to the usual plaintiff hymns. And, now years later, I regret it. Should have gone with the mellifluous voice of  the King of Rock ‘n’ Roll and not the strangled rendition of a tired old hymn.