Last night I did my first radio show in over twenty years. In about 1987 I was playing rugby for Lancaster University (I was a winger and kept out of trouble though I still I have a scar on my knee from those days). We were hosting a tournament and three of us went on Radio Lancashire to advertise it. I have fuzzy memories of this occasion, mainly the panic of driving round Preston trying to find the studio and the patronising tone of the male interviewer. (Surely-that’s-not-a-sport-for-ladies type thing.) I also remember having a shocking desire to laugh hysterically.
Last night was different. The interviewer, the lovely John Darvall with a proper job radio voice, made me relaxed and I had no such desire though I think a few nervous chuckles crept in. John had invited three local writers onto the show to chat about the process of writing and our contrasting journeys. I was interviewed alongside fellow guest John Pilkington, also from Devon. He has been much published and broadcast, whereas I have a long way to go to catch up. Despite being petrified beforehand, I must confess I actually enjoyed it.
I phoned my family afterwards to see what they thought. Apparently they all sat around the radio, like a scene from 1940. My eldest was on Facebook, live streaming it (or something like that), having a virtual chat with a friend from Worthing. (I bet Churchill didn’t have to worry about the impact of social networking.)