The B.B.C. reached a high level in its round-the-world broadcast
on Christmas Day. Having switched on with the expectation of being bored, I found myself greatly impressed. The fragments of talk from the different parts of the Commonwealth—most of all the epilogue from the Channel Islands—made the Commonwealth a very living reality ; the landlord of the Rose and Crown—or was it the Etchingham Arms?—at Burwash was excellent ; the Dyson family at Bethnal Green were all the better in the end for the misfortune that had befallen them on Sunday. But much the most moving was the rehabilitation hospital at East Grinstead (particularly to any- one who had read William Simpson's One of Our Pilots is Safe and The Way to Recovery) with the seared and crippled airmen's " anthem ":
"We are Mclndoe's army, We are his guinea-pigs,"
sung to the tune of " The Church's One Foundation." I would rather be McIndoe than most people I can think of. As- for the King's broadcast, I thought it the best he has yet done.
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