The wireless
Home entertainment in the 1950s was minimal, in terms of equipment. A television was the main luxury item but not all households had one. We didn’t get one until around 1960 and so for many years the wireless radio was the only electrical equipment that brought the outside world into our homes. We listened to the news, plays, comedy sketches and music from it. Ours was a brown, Bakelite, Philips valve radio. When you turned it on, it took a few minutes for the valves to heat up and sound to emanate from the beige cloth speaker grille. There was a particular smell that I quite liked when it got hot. It probably came from the paxolin circuit board and components, a sort of hot, dusty, waxy smell. When you turned it off, the sound continued for a few seconds as the valves cooled.
There were three wavebands to choose from - Long, Medium and Short. On the Medium wave, the BBC provided our choice of listening, through stations called The Light, Home and Third. Shortwave produced various eerie whistles and bleeps which dad identified as morse code. Longwave had some strange, exotic sounding names such as Hilversum, Prague, Oslo, Allouis and Luxemburg. When you tuned to them, you could listen to foreign gobbledegook. Luxemburg later turned out to be pivotal in our musical education though.
On Sunday lunch times, there was a variety program called Billy Cotton’s Band Show. It was a cheesy mix of old-fashioned variety-hall style humour and music. His star singer had the unlikely name of Alan Breeze. Billy did a weird comic monologue piece where God appeared to be talking down to him. It would start with God shouting to get his attention and Billy answering him. The clever and whitty dialogue would go something like -
‘Hey you.’
'Who?'
'You down there.'
‘Who me?’
‘Yeah you down there with the glasses.’
It was a chronic show from our point of view and Billy had a catch phrase that he bellowed at the start of the program - ‘wakey-wakey’. The second ‘wakey’ was drawn out for several seconds and it was our aim to dash to the wireless and turn it off before he finished the second ‘wakey’. As the sound faded, it was as if he was disappearing down a deep well, which is exactly what we hoped for.
Other programs you may remember from that period were Jimmy Clitheroe and The Clitheroe Kid. He was a sort of early version of The Crankies - a middle aged man playing the part of a mischievous schoolboy. One of the weirdest acts was Archie Andrews. Can you believe it, he was a ventriloquist on the radio! There was Children’s Favourites, I think on Saturday mornings, where you could request songs such as The railroad runs through the middle of the house; Billy goat’s gruff; the rather spooky Sparky who might have been a talking piano and my favourite – Tommy Steele’s Little white bull.
Occasionally the wireless would die on us and it would have to be sent to the repairman to get a new valve fitted (tube for our US readers). When it finally packed up, we got the radiogram. This was a huge piece of wooden furniture that not only housed a wireless but also a record deck. My uncle Frank acquired this for us from the saleroom. It was second-hand of course and only played the old fashioned 78 rpm records. The heavy Bakelite and metal arm held a needle (stylus) that looked like a small panel-pin nail. There was a dish built into the deck to hold spare ones. At that time the new 45 rpm records were becoming popular and we desperately wanted to be able to play them on our new machine. Uncle Frank was a bit of a dabbler with electrical things and figured he could modify it to play them. There was a lever that varied the turntable speed slightly. With some clever engineering he could get the thing to play anywhere between zero and 100 rpm which was fantastic fun for me, making crooners such as Bing Crosby sound like The Chipmunks on laughing gas. When Frank was finished fiddling with it and about to switch the electricity on, I thought it would be a wheeze if I fired my toy gun containing a small explosive cap. It did the trick – he nearly s**t himself. Our first 45 rpm record was Cliff Richard’s Living Doll. At first it sounded great but after 20 plays, the heavy weight of the record arm had almost ground it’s way through to the other side of the record and ruined it. We didn’t keep the radiogram for long. Soon we would have a telly and proper record player. More about those later.
Saturday 17 January 2009
Sunday 4 January 2009
Grandad Burridge
My mum’s dad was of a generation that no longer exists. Born in the late 1800s he lived through two world wars and hardships we have never experienced. He was a gunner in WW1 and was struck by a deadly mustard gas attack that severely burnt his lungs. Doctors didn’t expect him to live beyond his 20s but he kept going well into his 80s. To make matters worse, whilst he was lying injured on the battlefield, one of his fellow soldiers ran over his leg with a mule and cannon and broke it.
He loved to tell us tales of his younger life. I can see him sitting in his armchair smoking his pipe and the Robin Redbreast tobacco he loved whilst he entertained us with his stories. He spent his early life in Barnoldswick, a small mill town in Yorkshire. His father was the caretaker at the local Baptist church. Grandad told us of the times when he was a child and used to operate the manual bellows that powered the organ pipes. He had to sit inside a small cupboard and wait until the organist was ready to play and then start pumping. One day, bored of waiting, he fell asleep and failed to pump when it was needed. He got a severe rollocking from the irate, red-faced minister and organist.
His stories sometimes had a slightly risqué element or naughtiness that we loved to hear - like the one about the fair that came to town. He spent several hours there and won a heap of coconuts, which he ate with delight, until their laxative qualities started to take effect. He had to run for home but unfortunately didn’t make it in time leaving an embarrassing and messy trail! At this point in the story, grandma would chip and give him a telling-off for being so rude in front of us. He would just give one of his devilish chuckles.
After the war he took a job as a postman. The doctor thought the fresh air and exercise would be good for his damaged lungs. He and his young family moved to Dartmouth in Devon, thinking that the milder climate would be beneficial too. He told us of the day when he accidentally got drunk on his round. As he delivered his mail to various farms and homes, he was offered glasses of home made scrumpy cider. It was thirsty work so he accepted them all gratefully, not realising it was pretty potent stuff. Somebody eventually found him sitting on the grass verge, smashed out of his head on scrumpy, with his mail strewn all around him.
He sometimes seemed quite stern, as did most of that generation but on the whole he liked to have a little fun, entertaining in his own simple way. I’ve already told you about his alter ego ‘the cuckoo’. He also performed occasional magic tricks for us. One involved drawing the curtains to darken the room. When we ventured in, he would be sitting in his chair with arms outstretched. In front of him was a metal poker, apparently floating in mid air. He could make it rise and fall or move from side to side just by waving his arms. Fantastic. It took a few years for me to figure out he had it suspended between his hands on lengths of black cotton threads.
He loved to tell us tales of his younger life. I can see him sitting in his armchair smoking his pipe and the Robin Redbreast tobacco he loved whilst he entertained us with his stories. He spent his early life in Barnoldswick, a small mill town in Yorkshire. His father was the caretaker at the local Baptist church. Grandad told us of the times when he was a child and used to operate the manual bellows that powered the organ pipes. He had to sit inside a small cupboard and wait until the organist was ready to play and then start pumping. One day, bored of waiting, he fell asleep and failed to pump when it was needed. He got a severe rollocking from the irate, red-faced minister and organist.
His stories sometimes had a slightly risqué element or naughtiness that we loved to hear - like the one about the fair that came to town. He spent several hours there and won a heap of coconuts, which he ate with delight, until their laxative qualities started to take effect. He had to run for home but unfortunately didn’t make it in time leaving an embarrassing and messy trail! At this point in the story, grandma would chip and give him a telling-off for being so rude in front of us. He would just give one of his devilish chuckles.
After the war he took a job as a postman. The doctor thought the fresh air and exercise would be good for his damaged lungs. He and his young family moved to Dartmouth in Devon, thinking that the milder climate would be beneficial too. He told us of the day when he accidentally got drunk on his round. As he delivered his mail to various farms and homes, he was offered glasses of home made scrumpy cider. It was thirsty work so he accepted them all gratefully, not realising it was pretty potent stuff. Somebody eventually found him sitting on the grass verge, smashed out of his head on scrumpy, with his mail strewn all around him.
He sometimes seemed quite stern, as did most of that generation but on the whole he liked to have a little fun, entertaining in his own simple way. I’ve already told you about his alter ego ‘the cuckoo’. He also performed occasional magic tricks for us. One involved drawing the curtains to darken the room. When we ventured in, he would be sitting in his chair with arms outstretched. In front of him was a metal poker, apparently floating in mid air. He could make it rise and fall or move from side to side just by waving his arms. Fantastic. It took a few years for me to figure out he had it suspended between his hands on lengths of black cotton threads.
Thursday 1 January 2009
Happy New Year
Happy New Year
A post to say Happy New Year to you all and thanks for visiting this site. I hope it’s given you some pleasure. I’ve enjoyed writing it and getting the occasional comment back from some of you. It has brought some new friendships and rekindled one or two old ones. Nowadays, more than any other time in my life, I am appreciating that gift of friendship. I don’t want this to sound like some sort of sermon or lecture but because I consider you all to be my friends to some degree or other, I’d like to offer you a little comfort if possible.
You know, there’s a lot of craziness going on in the world today, the likes of which we haven’t seen before. It can make us feel quite insecure and wonder where the hell it’s leading to. The trouble is, there’s virtually nothing we can do to avoid it or improve it. We can’t make changes on a global or national scale, we have to leave that to the madmen who are in charge. That’s the scary bit, and feeling powerless. But we can change our own little worlds. We do have the power to do that to some extent. So that’s my bit of advice to you all. We can try to make our immediate environment a place where we can feel more at ease. We can offer some comfort and support to those we meet during our daily lives.
I am constantly puzzled as to why anyone should want suffering of any kind to continue in the world. Why would anyone choose war, pain, fear and anguish over peace, love, comfort and happiness? We can have the latter just as easy as we can have the former. I had one of my moments of inspiration the other day. I was thinking about all the badness that goes on in the world and trying to understand where it comes from. I’d say it mostly comes from greed and selfishness. That’s why countries fight each other, why arguments start, why people steal from others. Then I tried to think of the solution. That’s when it came to me. It’s so simple and here it is. Just be nice. How difficult is that? We all have the choice of being nasty or nice. Nobody can force us to be mean, lying, violent or greedy. If everyone just behaved in the way that they would like others to treat them, we’d have it cracked in no time. There are enough resources in the world for everyone to have a decent life, if governments and world leaders co-operated and looked after each other.
OK I’m deluded if I think I’ve solved the world’s problems here but it really could be that simple if only everyone could embrace the principle. That’s the problem though. For some reason, many people seem incapable. Well here’s my slant on what we can do. Firstly, try to embrace those nice principles ourselves as much as we can. There are many good people out there who already do. In fact I believe there are more forces for good than bad but unfortunately, many of the people in positions of power don’t practise it enough. We can always do a bit more though can’t we.
Secondly, have a little courage and empower yourself – make your personal world one you can enjoy. Don’t be afraid to be yourself, follow your dreams, talk to a stranger, put a coin in a busker’s hat, sing out loud, say sorry when you know you’re wrong. Take time to visit an old friend or make new ones, take up a new hobby or learn a new skill, grow some fruit or flowers, or just sit quietly and listen to the birds sing and feel the sun on your face. Don’t be afraid to try something new because you think you’ll be no good at it or someone will disapprove. I can’t remember which rock star said ‘no-one gets out of here alive’ but it’s a great line and also true. The point I’m making is - it’s these small things that add quality to our lives and to those of others. The warmongers and governments can’t take those away from us. This is the world we can create for ourselves whenever we wish to.
Sorry for the rant. It started out as a short post to wish you the best for the new year but I got carried away. Take care, have fun.
A post to say Happy New Year to you all and thanks for visiting this site. I hope it’s given you some pleasure. I’ve enjoyed writing it and getting the occasional comment back from some of you. It has brought some new friendships and rekindled one or two old ones. Nowadays, more than any other time in my life, I am appreciating that gift of friendship. I don’t want this to sound like some sort of sermon or lecture but because I consider you all to be my friends to some degree or other, I’d like to offer you a little comfort if possible.
You know, there’s a lot of craziness going on in the world today, the likes of which we haven’t seen before. It can make us feel quite insecure and wonder where the hell it’s leading to. The trouble is, there’s virtually nothing we can do to avoid it or improve it. We can’t make changes on a global or national scale, we have to leave that to the madmen who are in charge. That’s the scary bit, and feeling powerless. But we can change our own little worlds. We do have the power to do that to some extent. So that’s my bit of advice to you all. We can try to make our immediate environment a place where we can feel more at ease. We can offer some comfort and support to those we meet during our daily lives.
I am constantly puzzled as to why anyone should want suffering of any kind to continue in the world. Why would anyone choose war, pain, fear and anguish over peace, love, comfort and happiness? We can have the latter just as easy as we can have the former. I had one of my moments of inspiration the other day. I was thinking about all the badness that goes on in the world and trying to understand where it comes from. I’d say it mostly comes from greed and selfishness. That’s why countries fight each other, why arguments start, why people steal from others. Then I tried to think of the solution. That’s when it came to me. It’s so simple and here it is. Just be nice. How difficult is that? We all have the choice of being nasty or nice. Nobody can force us to be mean, lying, violent or greedy. If everyone just behaved in the way that they would like others to treat them, we’d have it cracked in no time. There are enough resources in the world for everyone to have a decent life, if governments and world leaders co-operated and looked after each other.
OK I’m deluded if I think I’ve solved the world’s problems here but it really could be that simple if only everyone could embrace the principle. That’s the problem though. For some reason, many people seem incapable. Well here’s my slant on what we can do. Firstly, try to embrace those nice principles ourselves as much as we can. There are many good people out there who already do. In fact I believe there are more forces for good than bad but unfortunately, many of the people in positions of power don’t practise it enough. We can always do a bit more though can’t we.
Secondly, have a little courage and empower yourself – make your personal world one you can enjoy. Don’t be afraid to be yourself, follow your dreams, talk to a stranger, put a coin in a busker’s hat, sing out loud, say sorry when you know you’re wrong. Take time to visit an old friend or make new ones, take up a new hobby or learn a new skill, grow some fruit or flowers, or just sit quietly and listen to the birds sing and feel the sun on your face. Don’t be afraid to try something new because you think you’ll be no good at it or someone will disapprove. I can’t remember which rock star said ‘no-one gets out of here alive’ but it’s a great line and also true. The point I’m making is - it’s these small things that add quality to our lives and to those of others. The warmongers and governments can’t take those away from us. This is the world we can create for ourselves whenever we wish to.
Sorry for the rant. It started out as a short post to wish you the best for the new year but I got carried away. Take care, have fun.
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