My generation. Old people . I prefer not to call myself an OAP, on the grounds that I disprove of all these initials! At meetings I am lost in seas of comments using acronyms all the time...so those of us who were alive during world war 2 are the people I am referring to...you know who you are!
As I grew up in homes lacking books and television was a distant dream on the horizon and nothing resembling even an adding machine, let alone computers existed then, I am now conscious of how great is my debt to the BBC.
Even poor people had radios and for me it was a rich source of both words and music.
Children's hour was a time in every day that I cherished. Wandering with Nomad left me with an interest in nature. Serials with glorious music attached gave glimpses into other worlds I might never have known existed.
Dick Barton special agent was the first detective soap ever and if I missed one it was a disaster. Even Mrs Dales diary became essential listening as I grew older. They filled a dull world with stuff for the senses which I remember with huge pleasure today.
Most important of all though is the facility to listen. When the written word was hard to come by, the radio provided food for a growing mind....
The third programme gave me music. The home service, daft shows to laugh at like Itma, and many more.
It was all listened to by the family! Grand parents , parents and children all listening and laughing together.
Henry Hall and his guest night was always on Friday nights just as I was having my bath in front of the fire...it was a time of deprivation as the war drew to a close but it was also one of innocence and wonder!
Thank you BBC.
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