Am I Becoming A TV Addict?!

Am I Becoming A TV Addict?!

Growing up in East Africa, there was no television; and then living in South Africa, television was not available in that country either. There were cinemas, theatres,  concerts to go to, and of course dear old "steam" radio - to my mind, after seeing a stage play, the next best thing was to hear it on radio. The most perfect leading man, the most beautiful leading lady, were to be found in your head, in your imagination - seeing a photograph of the cast could then prove to be a horrible disappointment! so better just to rely on their voices, and the atmosphere and sound effects created by the radio theatre workshops.

With this background, I never thought I would get particularly seduced by the goggle box; even when I came back to England in 1970, got married and had our daughter, Wendy, a telly was not high on the agenda of essential purchases. The first thing Bob and I did was to get a telephone - a shared line in those days, as there weren't enough lines to provide a private line to everyone! - and a piano.  We played, sang, I accompanied Bob when he played the clarinet and violin - it was wonderful, creating our own entertainment.

Then there were the times when Bob was away at sea; so that I would have something to watch, a kind friend offered us their old black and white t.v. - they had just gone on to colour, and as we had no set at all, we said "Yes, thank you!"

It was nice to have the chance to see as well as hear the news. I also enjoyed the wildlife programmes, but with a young baby to look after, there wasn't much time to become reliant on the box in the corner of the room.

Eventually, even we succumbed to the lure of colour programmes and with only 3 or 4 channels to choose from, we remained very selective; we still played, sang and our parties round the piano were very popular!

Now there are so many channels to choose from, I find it quite terrifying. No-one is going to live long enough to watch everything that might (just might!) interest them; so again, I tended to drop out of getting into all the various soaps and "must see" series that came along.

Looking after Mum also channelled our choice of programmes. When Mum couldn't concentrate long enough to enjoy a film or series on t.v. (she used to follow Murder She Wrote and Colombo) but later on she liked Homes Under the Hammer, which were short enough for her to remember what she thought she would do with a particular house to renovate it. Whilst she was having her dinner, we would watch a couple of quiz programmes together, Tipping Point and The Chase being two favourites. Wildlife films went down a treat, especially if they were about Africa; she could really relate to them, if they showed the deserts or jungles and the wild animals.

There were some programmes I quite fancied watching, but if they started at 9.00 p.m., even if they were on for only an hour, with the time schedule we had for looking after Mum and making sure she had eaten her dinner, it was usually impossible for me to watch them at the transmission time; a huge number of programmes were recorded, for me to watch later - whenever "later" might be.

The result is, there are dozens of films, series and single stand-alone programmes all sitting in the black box, just waiting for me to watch them - even those I have probably gone off by now anyway.

Since Mum died, these past weeks have been hectic, getting all the letters written, advising people, authorities, banks, etc., what has happened; but suddenly I found I was getting to the end of that very long list of things to do, and I actually had time for other interests.

And so now, with more time to spare: Am I turning into a TV addict?

In the past three weeks, I have watched the three 1-hour episodes of "Quiz," the programme about the first million-pound winner on Who Wants to be a Millionaire, who was then found guilty of cheating; and three 1-hour episodes of "A Very English Scandal," about the leader of the Liberal party back in the 1970s, who was accused of trying to have his lover murdered.

I have now watched 5 films:

Victoria and Abdul; a James Bond outing with Spectre; a very young Richard Burton in The Robe; Richard Burton again, in The Spy Who Came in From the Cold; and Cabaret, from 1972 - which I saw in a cinema in Portsmouth, when it first came out! (All that's missing now (with the earlier films) is the usherette in a frilly pinny, walking down the aisle during the interval, carrying a large tray with a halter neck ribbon around her neck and shoulders to support it, offering the audience "Ice creams! Cigarettes! Chocolates!")

I remember my Grandma telling me in Dar-es-Salaam, that she had read a book called The Robe, written by Lloyd C Douglas, and there was a film being made of it. The film came out in 1953, but I wasn't taken to see it; all these years later, through the wonder of television, here was my chance to watch it, and think back to my Grandma.

The patterns are changing, and we are winding down; what other treasures await - or lurk! - in the black box of recorded programmes?

It's very nice being able to sit down and relax and watch something uninterrupted; but with all the hundreds (?) of programmes sitting patiently in the queue - and yet more coming on screen every day - am I becoming a t.v. addict? Will I ever go to watch a film at "the flicks" again? Will I ever go to see a play in the theatre? Well ... (when the problems with the virus are over, as we all hope one day they surely must be, and we can go out and about more freely again) ... I jolly well hope so!