It is easy to become nostalgic at the word wireless, which for my generation has nothing to do with the internet, but rather goes back to those big wooden or bakelite radios, which offered up the Home Service and the Light Programme.
And while I also grew up with the television, the first of which must have arrived in our house in the early 1950s, the TV proved a false attraction.
Which was partly because transmission times were limited, there was only the one channel which broadcast in black and white, and both the TV and the service were apt to break down.
That unreliability brought forth the "Potter’s Wheel", which was a filler, while the technical team restored the published programme. It consisted of a few minutes of a clay pot rising from the potter’s wheel, and was sometimes substituted for the equally tedious “London to Brighton in 5 minutes”, which consisted of a speeded up train journey, which was novel the first few times you saw it but paled into boredom after a while.
So, the wireless dominated my early childhood.
My grandparents had one of those rather impressive pre-war sets, shaped a bit like a cathedral with a large speaker in the centre, and a dial underneath, which lit up to display the radio stations, from across Europe and perhaps beyond.
On the rare occasion it broke down granddad would take the back off to reveal a mix of wires and valves, and for a few fleeting moments the smell of warm dust and those valves hung in the air.
Dad and mum had gone for more utilitarian models, which were simply a wooden box, containing a speaker and the on off button.
But what made it special was that Dad had networked the radios across the house, and pretty much all the rooms had a small brown box, with a switch that allowed you to move between the Home Service the Light Programme and the Third Programme.
During the day, the wireless would be in the background most of the time, offering up a mix of music and spoken word, and it was the spoken word which captivated me, particularly the short stories and the plays.
Even now the wireless has that advantage over the TV that it can set your own imagination running, with the characters, and landscapes, be it Dennis the Dachshund, and Mr. Mayor from Toytown, that early science fiction series Journey into Space, or descriptions of faraway places.
But above all it was the comedy programmes, which then and now bring a smile to my face, and which more importantly were shared by the whole family.
Like the early television variety shows, the radio comedies commanded large audience while some of the more racy and suggestive jokes were lost on me, there was still much to enjoy.
And like today, the one liners became a popular part of our culture.
At which point I won’t go down the path of listing the long catalogue of comic radio stars, and their shows. Those of us who listened, will remember them and for anyone born later than the 1970s your challenge is to go looking for these long gone bits of fun, with help from The Glums, Take it From Here, The Goons, the Navy Lark, The Men from the Ministry and perhaps the most bizarre, the one featuring a puppet.
And in the course of reliving those shows, or discovering them for the first time, out of the past will surface the catch phrases, which were repeated on the bus, in the playground, and in factories and offices. I still smile at “don’t forget the diver”, “Oh Ron” and “can I do you now Sir?”.
Leaving me just to reflect, that frequently used observation, that in an age when we all go off and stream our own preferred programmes, there was a time when families congregated around the wireless sharing the music of Two Way Family Favourites, and repeating with gusto, “Its being so cheerful as keeps me going” and along with “Don’t mind if I do”.
Do I miss it, when confronted with a TV which offers channels one to a million and instant replays of something I missed? Well yes, I do a bit ……. But then there is always the danger of falling into the nostalgic trap, which fools you into making light of cold draughty houses, plates of liver, and black pudding with endless piles of over boiled cabbage, and listening to Sing Something Simple.
Pictures; advert for radios, 1949, from the collection of Graham Gill, radio listings from Saturday July 3rd, 1943, The Derby Evening Telegraph, from the collection of Andrew Simpson, and group of young women, signing on for the industrial registration at the Derby Employment Exchange, August 9th, 1943, reproduced courtesy of the Derby Telegraph, January 2, 2013
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| Wireless fun, 1949 |
Which was partly because transmission times were limited, there was only the one channel which broadcast in black and white, and both the TV and the service were apt to break down.
That unreliability brought forth the "Potter’s Wheel", which was a filler, while the technical team restored the published programme. It consisted of a few minutes of a clay pot rising from the potter’s wheel, and was sometimes substituted for the equally tedious “London to Brighton in 5 minutes”, which consisted of a speeded up train journey, which was novel the first few times you saw it but paled into boredom after a while.
So, the wireless dominated my early childhood.
My grandparents had one of those rather impressive pre-war sets, shaped a bit like a cathedral with a large speaker in the centre, and a dial underneath, which lit up to display the radio stations, from across Europe and perhaps beyond.
On the rare occasion it broke down granddad would take the back off to reveal a mix of wires and valves, and for a few fleeting moments the smell of warm dust and those valves hung in the air.
 |
| Today, tomorrow on the Home Service, 1943 |
But what made it special was that Dad had networked the radios across the house, and pretty much all the rooms had a small brown box, with a switch that allowed you to move between the Home Service the Light Programme and the Third Programme.
During the day, the wireless would be in the background most of the time, offering up a mix of music and spoken word, and it was the spoken word which captivated me, particularly the short stories and the plays.
Even now the wireless has that advantage over the TV that it can set your own imagination running, with the characters, and landscapes, be it Dennis the Dachshund, and Mr. Mayor from Toytown, that early science fiction series Journey into Space, or descriptions of faraway places.
But above all it was the comedy programmes, which then and now bring a smile to my face, and which more importantly were shared by the whole family.
Like the early television variety shows, the radio comedies commanded large audience while some of the more racy and suggestive jokes were lost on me, there was still much to enjoy.
And like today, the one liners became a popular part of our culture.
At which point I won’t go down the path of listing the long catalogue of comic radio stars, and their shows. Those of us who listened, will remember them and for anyone born later than the 1970s your challenge is to go looking for these long gone bits of fun, with help from The Glums, Take it From Here, The Goons, the Navy Lark, The Men from the Ministry and perhaps the most bizarre, the one featuring a puppet.
 |
| The wireless audience, 1943 |
Leaving me just to reflect, that frequently used observation, that in an age when we all go off and stream our own preferred programmes, there was a time when families congregated around the wireless sharing the music of Two Way Family Favourites, and repeating with gusto, “Its being so cheerful as keeps me going” and along with “Don’t mind if I do”.
Do I miss it, when confronted with a TV which offers channels one to a million and instant replays of something I missed? Well yes, I do a bit ……. But then there is always the danger of falling into the nostalgic trap, which fools you into making light of cold draughty houses, plates of liver, and black pudding with endless piles of over boiled cabbage, and listening to Sing Something Simple.
Pictures; advert for radios, 1949, from the collection of Graham Gill, radio listings from Saturday July 3rd, 1943, The Derby Evening Telegraph, from the collection of Andrew Simpson, and group of young women, signing on for the industrial registration at the Derby Employment Exchange, August 9th, 1943, reproduced courtesy of the Derby Telegraph, January 2, 2013
Most of your quotes, Andrew, were from ITMA, It's That Man Again, the Tommy Handley Show which kept the nation going during the War and after.
ReplyDeleteRight monkey, and lovely Mrs Hoskins, are still used in our house but who knows what they meant or where they came from...
ReplyDelete