I grew up in the years before television, when our main entertainment, apart from reading, was the radio. We had a radio in the kitchen above the fridge, and a radiogram in the front room. If ever I was home from school I would hear the daily serials: Doctor Paul and Portia Faces Life. On Sunday morning there was the Children’s Request Session with old favourites like Little Toot, Diana and the Golden Apples, and the Waltz of the Flowers. It seems to me now that most of stories were American recordings, not like the wonderful local tales we now hear early on Sunday mornings.
My brother loved the Goon Show, but I was too young to appreciate it then. On Sunday evenings Mother and I would listen to a serialized drama such as The Day of the Triffids. When I was about eight I was given a crystal set which meant I could listen on my own. I remember Life with Dexter, the story of the Dutton family on Monday nights, which was followed by Randy Stone’s Night Beat. On Thursdays there was the Hit Parade.
During School holidays there was a programme hosted by Happi Hill, for which the theme song was Happy Days are Here Again. On Friday afternoons there was a programme with Aunt Haysl. She ran a children’s club on the roof of Hays Department store, and took a group across to the 3ZB studio each week to be recorded.
My brother, who later became a Physics Lecturer, built himself a radio transmitter. He installed a tall willow pole beside his sleepout to act as a mast. For hours I would hear him repeating “Calling C.Q., come in please” as he sought to make contact with others around the world.
Transistor radios meant we could take the radio outside with us, great for teenage gatherings. We took a personal interest in the lives of pop stars, and my bedroom walls were papered with large posters of my idols – centrefolds from teenage magazines. When the Beatles first came on the scene my rascally elder brother sent me a set of cards depicting beetles – the six-legged kind.
Now I value my MP3 player which can be easily turned on during the night. Also beside my bed is a tablet which uses WiFi to give me access to the BBC Woman’s Hour. I love this programme which gives a female perspective on the world and keeps me in touch with U.K. life. At night I often read in bed, then listen to the radio before I go to sleep. If I wake in the early hours I don’t want to put on a light and disturb Stephen, but I plug in my earphones and listen to a programme. It’s like having someone read me a story.
Today my radios are set to RNZ National which provides my most immediate news. After the first September 2010 earthquake I purchased two dynamo torch/radios, and these were indispensable after the earthquakes in February 2011. Being able to wind up a radio is more convenient that having to maintain batteries, and I keep one dynamo radio beside the bed always. RNZ was an absolute lifeline during earthquake emergencies. When the September earthquake struck early in the morning the house shook violently, and my main thought was “If it’s like this here, whatever must they be experiencing in Wellington?”. We’d always expected that the big one would be in that city. It was RNZ who quickly informed me that the epicentre was actually in Canterbury.
With radio you always know
you’ll get news and a spoken show.
I too grew up with no TV! I can remember my father saying who would listen or watch from something in the corner of the room for entertainment, but once he realised he could watch his Cricket he changed his tune, bought a TV! And when my sister and I wanted to see something on TV before Dad bought one, we had to go to the elderly neighbours who had a special screen which they put in front of the actual TV and it came out the colour!! Those were the days in London!!.
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I imagine the colour was possibly a sepia tint?
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The purchase of a radiogram was a significant one when I was a little girl. My brothers and I spent hours listening to Uncle Clarrie’s Quiz Show, the Sunday morning stories for children and the holiday programme presented by Gavin Yates which featured stories such as “The Lost Tribe of Te Anau”.
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It sounds as though there may have been more local programmes in your area and era.
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