It was the early 1950s in the Haymarket, Prince of Wales Road, Norwich. The singer had a full head of thick, curly hair and was dressed like a dandy, with baggy, bell-bottom trousers. “He didn’t have much of a voice box,” recalled Ted. It didn’t matter, this young crooner was an actor, a performer, a “person who came across well” – he was the pop star Max Bygraves.

Ted knew all about good music. He was a regular customer at the HMV (His Master’s Voice) record shop where you could ask for the songs of Bing Crosby, Bob Hope, and Vera Lynn to be played on the gramophone before deciding whether to buy them.

Yet the 1950s were about much more than notes and lyrics; there arose a youth culture with daring and revealing new fashions and a rediscovered sex appeal. Max was popular with the local young ladies; they screamed at him, they pulled their hair; they wanted his autograph or better still a special photo for their lockets. And these women too could have their own fans; Ted recollected a Norwich lass with “beads in her pigtails” who had admirers aplenty.

However, looking sexy and trendy was never cheap; it was not unusual for young adults to ask their elders for loose change to subsidise their social lives. Ted had been brought up to work hard for his money and to be thrifty with it. He navigated his way through this age of rock and roll by spotting the bargains - “LPs are better value than singles.”

There was danger too, represented by the ultimate accessory of the decade – the J.A.P. bike with perhaps one or even two side-cars. Often home-made, these spartan bikes came without mudguards or lights, and who needs a helmet when you can wrap a scarf around your head!

Yet all in all Ted has fond memories of the fifties and confessed, “sometimes I wish I was back there”, before sharing a burst of song. He’s still got it you know.