R is for RADIO

We had two radios in the house when I was growing up though we tended to call each one a wireless. The first was a really old one that had been around for longer than I can remember. It was portable in the sense that it could be moved but not in the sense that you could carry it if you were going for a walk. It was about the height of a medium sized cereal box but twice the depth and its wooden casing was greenish blue with hints of a creamy-yellow colour on the speaker grille. All the knobs were on top as was the tuning scale but they basically amounted to an on/off switch that doubled as a volume control, a selector for medium or long wave and a tuning knob. You knew when you had reached the correct station because a little vertical red line on the tuner settled over the station that you wanted. The inside of the 'wireless' could be reached by removing the whole back cover and this revealed a series of large valves in the top half and underneath a huge battery, cuboid in shape and about the size of four pounds of butter laid side by side. It was usually tuned into Radio Ulster or whatever it was called in those days so that our parents could hear the news as many times as possible in day and the only other place the tuner knew on the scale was RTE radio which dad used every evening at around half past six to listen to the cattle prices from different markets around Ireland. Every morning when you would waken up, you could hear the muffled voice of a radio presenter downstairs, reading the news or informing us what sort of weather to expect so you knew it must be nearly time to get up. The other radio was powered by electricity and sat on the trolley underneath the television. It was much more ornate and was completely dark brown in colour with a tuning scale that lit up and had three or four different wavelengths and lovely large round tuning and volume knobs. It was used more and more as the original wireless began to give up the ghost.

But it was on that first radio that I discovered music and also that there were other radio stations out there apart from the two that commonly filled my ears. Somewhere, somehow, I found Radio Caroline and then Radio Luxembourg and forever my life was changed. Now I could hear songs and music that the other, more formal channels never aired and also tune into presenters who weren't afraid to have a bit of fun. On many nights I would be stuck beside the old radio with the reel tape recorder and microphone, recording the top twenty and trying to compete with the normal, everyday noise on the house.

Sometime after that early period I had saved up enough pennies to buy my own radio. I t was a simple affair about as big as a post card and about an inch and a half deep, with two big round controls on the front, a silver grille and a plastic blue casing. For the first time I was introduced to the joys of private listening since it came with a small, cream coloured earphone and some time later I found a way to strap it to the handlebars of my bicycle and had music on the move. But my pride and joy was another radio that looked just so sleek. It was much wider but not as deep and only as tall as a CD case and while most of the casing was a dark blue-green, the top third was silver and had four or five little vertical silver buttons on one side, in a row that switched it on and off and selected different channels. It also came with its own little earpiece but because it was a much more rigid, fragile structure and indeed more valuable it never made it onto my bicycle. Since those early days, I have bought a whole selection of radios, some with presets, others with vertical, horizontal or rotary tuning dials, some that needed electricity, a few that fitted into a coat pocket and even now, with the advent of DAB radio, I suppose I have considered adding to my collection yet again. These days, I find myself listening more and more to the very stations that I used to avoid and often tune into the latest news bulletins while generally not listening to as much music as I once did, though Radio 5 live and Talk Sport are always going to feature heavily on my agenda at any listening.

Two major memories of radio listening always live with me. The first was the first broadcast of Downtown radio. For over a week, I had been feeding all the cattle with hay in the early morning because dad had been unwell. I followed his example of putting three or four bales of hay in the boot of his car and driving to the different fields, while listening to the radio. I knew that the beginning of the new station was imminent because every morning, a series of jingles on the frequency told me the start date was getting closer . Then one morning at about six or seven o'clock, the station was born and I felt privileged to be there, all alone, listening to the new birth as it happened. The second event was less pleasant but no less memorable for I was tuned in to Radio One at the exact moment when a tearful Stuart Henry announced that 'The King is dead'. wasn't an avid Elvis fan, yet the impact of his passing didn't leave me unmoved and its significance never left me.

I wasn't at either the birth or the death of Jesus and I often wonder how the radio would have reported each. There is no doubt that through different generations, the people had been told that the birth was imminent but it was a much quieter affair than expected with the only invited guests being a bunch of shepherds and possibly a few animals. In about the same length of time that Downtown Radio has been in existence, Jesus made such an impact on people that there were those who decided he must die. I wonder did they ever think that event had also been told through different generations and that they were directly involved in bringing the prophetic words of others to reality. 'The King of the Jews' was above His head and there would have been many who shed tears on the day the King died but many others who were glad to see the end. Yet the end was in fact a new beginning and how privileged we are today to not only have the reported historical facts of His birth and death but also the knowledge that He rose again and as the name Immanuel suggests, He is still with us. As Isaiah says 'He was pierced for our transgressions, he was crushed for our iniquities; the punishment that brought us peace was upon him, and by his wounds we are healed.' Time to tune in and listen!