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I remember the Silver Julilee, in, I think, 1977. Everything was taken much more seriously, even among what was unashamedly knows as the “working classes”, and also among the less “respectable” end thereof. Jim Callaghan was Prime Minister, we had “wage and price controls”, We as a country were officially and publicly bust having had to “go to the IMF cap-in-hand”, the “trade” “unions” dictated what cars should be made, to what quality, for what wages and time off, what trains would be driven and where, and who was allowed to handle what stages of print production in Fleet Street and elsewhere. Yet the BBC took a low-key, serious stance, and local planning on “estates” of street parties went ahead with a sort of collective gravity about what types of jellies or cakes each “housewife” would be willing to provide.