By: Blonde Two
I don’t know quite how this happened, but I imagine it is a process that everyone passes through; a rite of passage if you like. I have started listening to local radio.
You start off your radio listening career by choosing the station guaranteed to most upset your parents (Radio Station One). Requirements are simple: unintelligible shouting, incomprehensible rhythms and absolutely no melodies. Your parents respond in appropriate and expected fashion, with phrases like, “In my day songs had a tune.” and “Turn that god-forsaken racket down.” These days, music control is much easier; you just unplug the wireless router and wait for the complaints.
Later on in life you switch your allegiance to Radio Station Number Two. You do this for two reasons:
1) Because you are trying very hard not to admit that you are grown up; if the same music is playing on the radio then you must surely still be a teenager?
2) Because, although you don’t like to admit it, the music and shouting on Radio Station One sounds like your parents’ ‘god-forsaken racket’.
And then, even later than that, when the children have gone and you have turned their raucous bedrooms into offices, reading spaces and guest quarters; you develop something that you thought you would never have time for. You develop INTERESTS! Interests mean that you want something more from your radio station; you still need that little hit of ‘they are playing my song’, but you also want information; lots and lots of information. You want to know what is happening where, you want to know who is doing what and you want all of this to be relevant to you and your interests.
Which is where today’s confession comes in: My name is Blonde Two and I am a BBC Radio Devon listener. At least I am trying very hard to be; the rest of the family haven’t caught up with my enlightenment yet, and I keep finding re-tuned radios and hearing comments of, “What on earth are you listening to?”
Why Radio Devon? Well, it is quirky enough to be run by a couple of Blondes for a start; it tells me things about Devon and Dartmoor that I don’t already know and it makes me proud to live in such a varied and exciting corner of the country.
Of course, all of this is nothing to do with being asked to make a radio comment on Dartmoor last week … nothing at all!
You are too young to know of the Third Programme, later hopelessly popularised as BBC Radio 3. “The Third” was the absolute acme of elitism, all programmes aimed at achieving a listenership of zero (and frequently achieving this hallowed goal). I only dared listen after long, long intervals; always switched it on sweatily, knowing I wasn’t really up to it.
I have images of a pre-listening workout involving calisthenics (whatever those are) and deep breathing. Presumably the consumption of red meat just before-hand was not advised?
What happened to the halcyon days of the Light Programme? Bring back “Life With The Lyons”, the “Clitheroe Kid”, “Journey into Space”, “Paul Temple”, “Friday Night is Music Night”, and – yes, okay Mum, I’m getting to it – “Mrs. Dale’s Diary”.
I have only heard of one of those!