The spirit of radio...

Miss R and I hit the airwaves yesterday morning.  We were guest presenters on the Mid Morning Matters programme on Marlow FM, a local radio station serving a community of around a thousand people (on a good day).

We get invited to come onto the show every now and again ostensibly to talk about the things we love and hate about living in Marlow.  It's a bit of a secret, but I haven't lived in Marlow for almost thirty years now, so probably shouldn't even be on there.  But as I spend as much time there as many of my Marlow based relatives, I think I just about get away with it.  The time between our appearances is probably just enough for the DJ to forget just how terrible it was when we were on last.  He never learns and always seems very excited when we are on.  It's either that or fear, I haven't quite decided yet.

So for the past couple of weeks, Miss R and I have been discussing which topics we should throw out there for the poor unsuspecting listener.  You'll note I use the word 'listener' in the singular?  I am more inclined to think that my estimate of the people tuned in is far more realistic than that of the eternal optimist who runs the show.  So at 9.15 yesterday, I swooped past Miss R's work and we drove down to the radio station together.  

The station is completely run by volunteers, and is based in the middle of a children's activity centre.  Whenever we are there, we are guaranteed to see hordes of unruly children being rounded up by middle aged women in sensible shoes, all of them wearing identical baseball hats in case they get separated. Well, I suppose you can't be too careful when the centre is made up of a stretch of river and a free standing climbing wall.

The studio was the hottest I have ever known yesterday.  It's hard trying to be entertaining when you're doing a passable impression of a human watering can, and we were only allowed the fan on when the music was playing, just in case the audience thought we were bringing the show to them from the confines of an Apache helicopter.

So sitting down in the studio, cans on (DJ speak for headphones don't you know) and microphones adjusted, the DJ had just started playing a record when Miss R threw her hands up into the air and proclaimed very loudly that, 

'Bugger.  I've left my notes at home'.

And so it was that we free wheeled through the next two hours and covered many topics from sharks to schnauzers and cycling to Tom Kerridge.  As the time wore on and the studio got warmer (all that hot air I expect) all I could think off was stripping off and dunking myself into a pool somewhere.

As I said to the DJ just as he was taking a swig of his coffee, 'Naked radio presenting.  It's the way forward'.  Well that's as may be, but I would have serious concerns about the children looking into the studio from the climbing wall.

They'd never listen to the radio in the same way again...