As a young child I was a little housewife. Wearing an apron to keep my dress clean, I played with the toy sink unit that I could have real water in to wash my tea set. I often got wet but I didn’t mind. I had an iron and ironing board, a cooker that my dad made for me and a dolls bed, also made by Dad, for all my babies. I had lots of babies and spent my days caring for them while listening to Mrs Dale’s Diary, Womans’ Hour, The Navy Lark and everything else that came out of the huge, wooden wireless that we called The Radio. Sometimes my mom had music programmes on, like The Billy Cotton Band Show. This was where I developed my love for piano, hearing Russ Conway. Years later, living in Blackpool, my mom took me to a variety show that Russ was in. The surprise was wonderfully overwhelming. I longed to play the piano like him. A decade of lessons and lots, well, perhaps not lots, of practice – I can play, but not like him. I grew up with whatever was on the radio, Light Programme, Home Service, even the Shipping Forecast. If the radio wasn’t on, it was because my mum was playing her records. I was familiar with those, too.
A little older and I remember being really unhappy at school. Sometimes we would have family friends and extended family over on a Sunday afternoon. I wished those carefree afternoons could last forever. I would dread them leaving, knowing I was a step closer to going to bed and school in the morning. It was the same if we went visiting anyone. Travelling home in the car with Sing Something Simple on the radio gave me that awful sinking feeling. It still does, but these days I can give a nostalgic smile.
My 13th birthday, November, 1968. School wasn’t any better but I was coping. My mom had been in hospital and we were happy she was home. She was sitting up in bed, smiling and wishing me a happy birthday. She passed me my wrapped present and said, “We didn’t know what to get you, so it’s just chocolates for now.” I thanked her, more than happy with chocolates, just glad to have my mom home. She laughed as I unwrapped the gift to reveal a box containing a pocket transistor radio, with an ear-piece and a cover. It was a Solid State Binatone something or other, very like the photo. I was thrilled. Tony Blackburn became my morning hero, brightening my day, making me laugh. In later days, with my mom up and about we listened to the Top Twenty together, usually in the kitchen making tea. I would set the table and butter bread. We sang along to Lily the Pink, Blackberry Way, Bend It, Ob-La Di Ob La Da, I’m the Urban Spaceman. I’m sure these songs weren’t all in the same pop chart, but these are the ones that come to mind. Happy times. I don’t know what happened to that little transistor, but I wish I still had it.
Radio is still my main day time choice rather than a silent house. I got fed up with Radio 2 when the powers that be decided to stop playing music from the ‘50s and ‘60s. I only listen to Johnnie Walker’s Sounds of the Seventies. When Ken Bruce moved to Greatest Hits Radio, so did I
My Haiku, just to capture a moment or two,
Setting the table
List’ning to the Top Twenty,
Just Mummy and me.
Buttering the bread,
Laughing at Lily the Pink.
Cold meat and salad.
Sing Something Simple,
The end to Sunday tea-time.
Thoughts of dreadful school.
PMW 2024
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