Oh b****r (courtesy of Kev)

MONDAY 31 MARCH

Where to start....

From the emails, texts and calls I’ve been getting - as well as from your reactions here on the blog - it seems that you’re already well aware of the apparent disintegration of the BBC’s computer system here at the Pink Palace. No-one is to blame for the sporadic waywardness of The Nightshift’s appearances on-air; the system that’s used to broadcast it seemingly threw up its hands in despair and gave up the ghost. (Why, incidentally, do we say ‘gave up the ghost?’)

This means that Saturday morning’s show became a dog’s breakfast and this morning’s ran 10 minutes late throughout. Sunday’s programme - with its rare ‘live’ element for Clock Change Night - will also go down in Nightshift history as the very nadir of slick inefficiency. (In case you weren’t listening, you missed a treat. The BBC puts its studio clocks forward by ‘expressing’ them at just that speed where you don’t actually notice the second hand moving unusually fast. I therefore invited the people of the North-East to change their clocks almost 30 minutes too soon. It was almost too bad to be true. At least my on-air chat with Sue Sweeney was worth coming to work for!)

There may be further computer cock-ups before things are finally put to rights. I can only apologise if this means that you miss out on the radio gems I have pre-recorded for your delight and nocturnal diversion.

To be honest, I’m feeling a bit peeved about it. I only keep smiling under these trying and testing circumstances because of the typically innovative and imaginative suggestions you made about the actors who should play us in films about our lives. Sue Sweeney and I both LOVED the idea of Mae West portraying her and Sue’s own idea that it could be Diana Dors was a cracker, too. I only realised that Diana Dors was an actress of some depth when I saw her in The Amazing Mr Blunden (after whom the solicitor in Secrets was named); she was truly outstanding - no pun intended.

If you’d like to suggest a second question for the Truckshunter Questionnaire, I’d be happy to go along with it.

TRUCKSHUNTER POSTING
Tomorrow’s posting will be a ‘guest’ posting. It’s a cracker, too. But you’ll have to wait to find out who wrote it....

CONTACT ME
Post comments on this blog or contact me in any one (or more) of these ways....
ian.robinson@bbc.co.uk
ianstuartrobinson@googlemail.com
text 07786 200954 (while the programme is on-air)
call (between about 0545 and 0630 Monday to Friday) 0191 232 6565
Ian Robinson, The Nightshift, BBC Radio Newcastle, Spital Tongues, Newcastle-upon-Tyne NE99 1RN

NOTE
Please bear in mind that the views expressed in this blog are my own and NOT the views of the BBC.

FRIDAY 28 MARCH

GUY

There’s been much talk on the truckshunter blog recently about the grief and pain of losing pet animals - be they dogs, cats, mice or a rat called Guybrush - or Guy - who belonged to Lawrence until he died on Easter Day.

Lawrence sent me an email about it and believe me, that email touched a nerve that’s still very raw indeed over 4 years since the death of my own Guybrush - my wonderful dog Taxi. Some of you might remember the state I got myself into over it - indeed, I suspect that some of you may be the same people who sent me emails, texts and letters of comfort and support at the time.

The death of a pet - ANY pet - is a heart-wrenching experience. For however long or short the time they are with us, they are totally dependent on us for everything. We provide the right food for them at the right time. We make sure they get the right levels of exercise and life-interest as much as we can. We give them our time, our attention, our affection and our love. In many ways, we devote ourselves to them. We feel that we would put ourselves in harm’s way for their sakes. And we do these things knowing full well that, if nature takes its course, our hearts will almost certainly be broken somewhere down the line, and often not too far down the line, either. Lawrence adopts rats like Guy and Grosvenor - nourishes them, cares for them, loves them - knowing that his time with them is bound to be strictly limited.

This is how most of us are with our pets. So why do we do it, again and again?

Surely it’s because of what THEY give US in return for the care and love we give THEM. We get unconditional loyalty and love. We get companionship, calm and peace of mind as we tend to their needs. Many’s the pet who has steered its owner through bad times as well as good.

I don’t think a pet owner crying out for the loss of his pet should EVER feel self-conscious about his breaking heart. Surely, it is our inexpressible grief at the loss of an animal friend that makes us human.

LEND ME A RAT
Lawrence sent me a poem called Lend Me A Rat. I'll read it on-air before about 0200 on Tuesday morning's Nightshift. It says it all.

CONTACT ME
Post comments on this blog or contact me in any one (or more) of these ways....
ian.robinson@bbc.co.uk
ianstuartrobinson@googlemail.com
text 07786 200954 (while the programme is on-air)
call (between about 0545 and 0630 Monday to Friday) 0191 232 6565
Ian Robinson, The Nightshift, BBC Radio Newcastle, Spital Tongues, Newcastle-upon-Tyne NE99 1RN

NOTE
Please bear in mind that the views expressed in this blog are my own and NOT the views of the BBC.

Gillian

THURSDAY 27 MARCH

See? I told you it was good, didn’t I? And I wholeheartedly agree with all the comments that have been made about Gillian, whose picture proudly tops off this posting.

As for the future.....

Several of my colleagues at BBC Radio Newcastle have expressed well-meant misgivings about ‘guest blogposting’. They’ve pointed out that not everyone will feel confident enough to draft a posting for the blog - indeed, they’re pretty amazed that anyone would ever agree to do so! I certainly don’t want anyone to feel self-conscious about being cajoled or emotionally ‘blackmailed’ into writing a posting for the blog. So, although any guest postings will always be seriously welcomed, I won’t be putting any blogsters ‘on the spot’ by actually inviting them. And I don't want any of us to put any kind of pressure on each other to draft blogpostings, either.

Instead, it’s a kind of ‘standing invitation’ to anyone who wants to send me a draft - as often or as rarely as they like!

Subject closed.

THE TRUCKSHUNTER QUESTIONNAIRE
You’ll be aware that several papers and magazines have what they often call a ‘questionnaire’. Some Z-list celeb of no interest to anyone except themselves is invited to answer a set list of questions of the ‘What’s your favourite colour?’ type and we all doze off quietly reading their answers. Well, all that changes as of NOW.

It seems to me that, over the last few weeks, truckshunters have been getting to know each other more and more. Snippets of personal history and individual opinions and tastes have leaked out in your blog comments for quite some time now but the revelations have been ‘unequal’ - different levels of revelation on widely differing subjects. I think it would be interesting to ‘regularise’ what we say about ourselves by homing in on specific questions.

Anyway, we can only see how it goes!

To start the ball rolling, how about an innocent question like....

WHO SHOULD PLAY YOU IN A FILM OF YOUR LIFE STORY?
Given complete freedom of fantasy, I would have liked W C Fields to play me. I would also like to have seen what a combination of Montgomery Clift and Paul Scofield would have made of my humdrum existence. (I make no apology for admitting, on air, that I’ve had a crush on Paul Scofield for most of my adult life. His stage and screen impact, his handsome, craggy face and sad eyes, his looming, mesmerising voice - what a sexy combination! If Sir Ian McKellen can admit to having had a crush on Derek Jacobi, then yours truly is proud to be the founder member of the Paul Scofield Appreciation Society. I was devastated to my core when he died last week.)

As everyone I’ve mentioned so far is, catastrophically, dead then I think Dame Judi Dench should be given the opportunity to portray me. She’d probably make a good job of it, too.

There could, of course, be a supplementary question here. Who should play the other people we all know? Who do YOU think should play me? Who should play Mike Parr? Or Sue Sweeney? Or Loz? Or Hildie? Or.......?

CONTACT ME
Post comments on this blog or contact me in any one (or more) of these ways....
ian.robinson@bbc.co.uk
ianstuartrobinson@googlemail.com
text 07786 200954 (while the programme is on-air)
call (between about 0545 and 0630 Monday to Friday) 0191 232 6565
Ian Robinson, The Nightshift, BBC Radio Newcastle, Spital Tongues, Newcastle-upon-Tyne NE99 1RN

NOTE
Please bear in mind that the views expressed in this blog are my own and NOT the views of the BBC.

WEDNESDAY 26 MARCH

Brace yourselves, Truckshunters....

Here we go with the second of our occasional guest postings. This thought-provoking posting was written by Sid....

TRUCKSHUNTER POSTING II: SID

On the surface, this may seem like a story of great sadness and utter despair, but it isn't. What I am about to tell you brought me bucketfulls of hope and joy.

My youngest daughter Gillian was diagnosed with cerebral palsy at the age of 14 months. We had known instinctively that something was wrong, our two other daughters had been miles ahead of Gillian at the same age.

At the time I was a taxi driver in the North Tyneside area, I spent many an hour just sat alone on the Taxi rank.

One day I was sent to collect a fare from one of the local housing estates, it would have been about 10:30 am. It was a couple I was picking up, I remember thinking at the time that the female passenger didn't look very well. We hadn't travelled more than a few hundred yards when she told me that "I had trouble at home". I looked in my rear view mirror and explained in my best, friendly, taxi driver manner that she must have the wrong guy, my wife and I were fine thanks. "Its not your wife" she said "it involves a child, but don't worry she will be alright......no she won't be alright, but she'll be satisfactory".

The hairs were standing up on my arms and the back of my neck. That word ...satisfactory, was only ever used when Jean and I were alone together, discussing how we would like Gillian to be as she grew up.

My passenger suddenly changed the conversation, as though her job was done, I had been told.

"Where are you going for your holidays" she asked. ( I wanted to say you tell me pet, you seem to know more than me ) but I replied "The lake district, in a touring caravan, in about 4 months time". "Well", she said "take your wet weather gear with you".

At this point they were at their destination, she came to the passenger side of the car and opened the door, she paid me, took my hand and said "God is good son".....and off they went.

Months later we were at Aira Force in the lake district, a lovely sunny day. Suddenly the clouds arrived from nowhere, the thunder started and we got drenched trying to run back to our car. T'was then I remembered what my "Angel" had told me about the wet weather gear. Oh how we laughed...nearly.

Time has shown that this person was right, and her message of hope and joy came at just the right time. Gillian is satisfactory, in lots of ways.

Thanks, Sid.

CONTACT ME

Post comments on this blog or contact me in any one (or more) of these ways....
ian.robinson@bbc.co.uk
ianstuartrobinson@googlemail.com
text 07786 200954 (while the programme is on-air)
call (between about 0545 and 0630 Monday to Friday) 0191 232 6565
Ian Robinson, The Nightshift, BBC Radio Newcastle, Spital Tongues, Newcastle-upon-Tyne NE99 1RN

NOTE
Please bear in mind that the views expressed in this blog are my own and NOT the views of the BBC.

TUESDAY 25 MARCH

I would like to extend my heartfelt sympathy to the electrical contractor whose van you see pictured above. Running your own business is difficult enough without being burdened with a name as inauspicious as that. The poor man must have nightmares.

THE VANISHING NIGHTSHIFT
I won’t describe the colourful language that could be heard all over the Pink Palace this morning - much of it, I’m afraid, directed at me. As we have all collectively deduced over the last few days, there was indeed a computer fault. That, at least, was none of my doing.

I still have all the chapters of Secrets in my audio folder at work but, as you may have gathered if you heard the chapters that actually managed to make it to air this morning, I mentioned the days of Easter when I was pre-recording it. This means it will sound extremely silly if I re-play it to air. However, although the battle may have been temporarily lost, the war can easily be won. I’m developing a fiendish plan to re-record it all with no references to anything except the narrative itself. When that’s done, I think it would be absolutely whacko! to devote an entire programme to the telling of the story.

This time, though, I will try to edit it so that, firstly, the various styles conform with each other a little better and secondly, to make it easier to read aloud. I stumbled once or twice first time round and we don’t want THAT, do we?

If there are any changes or amendments you would like me to incorporate into the edit, please let me know.

MUSICAL MONEY
During the ‘live’ part of this morning’s Nightshift, I asked if all the members of a symphony orchestra were paid the same. Last night I attended a wonderful concert at the Sage - Finlandia, the New World Symphony; it was awesome. But I couldn’t help noticing that some members of the orchestra had a LOT less to do than others. Although the violinists, for example, gave their all for almost two hours, the tuba player (tubist?) only picked up his formidable instrument twice and for less than 3 or 4 minutes in total, and the unfortunate triangle player had to try and concentrate throughout the entire proceedings until his moment of glory was reached very near the end.

So...are they all paid the same? Believe me, if I was a cellist producing two hours of pure pleasure through my expert handling of the instrument between my legs, I would be very miffed indeed if my wages were the same as those of the percussionist who only has to bash his cymbals together as the climax is reached. Wouldn’t you?

TRUCKSHUNTER POSTING II
Tomorrow’s posting is the work of Truckshunter Sid. It’s good, too.

CONTACT ME
Post comments on this blog or contact me in any one (or more) of these ways....
ian.robinson@bbc.co.uk
ianstuartrobinson@googlemail.com
text 07786 200954 (while the programme is on-air)
call (between about 0545 and 0630 Monday to Friday) 0191 232 6565
Ian Robinson, The Nightshift, BBC Radio Newcastle, Spital Tongues, Newcastle-upon-Tyne NE99 1RN

NOTE
Please bear in mind that the views expressed in this blog are my own and NOT the views of the BBC.

MONDAY 24 MARCH
EASTER MONDAY

EMERGENCY POSTING 3
I've just been into the Pink Palace and prerecorded tomorrow's Nightshift. Most of the items in it are lifted from Easter Day's programme, including chapters 9 to 12 of Secrets. Judging from the last few nights, I don't hold out much hope for tonight, either, though. If the system fails us yet again, I'll try to make other arrangements for you to hear Secrets.

Sue Sweeney was in the Palace this morning, too, and was going frantic with worry in case she was responsible for the disappearance of The Nightshift over the last two nights. She's actually lost sleep over it! I've reassured her that there's nothing she could have done about the computer fault.

Some of you obviously know more about the arcane workings of the BBC's computer system than I do - not that that's saying much, to be honest. It seems you're right; the automatic 'play' button - the one marked GO - may as well have said STOP and yet more hours of juicy truckshunting didn't get off the ground (to mix metaphors just a little).

Sid.....In view of The Nightshift's Easter catastrophe, I will draft tomorrow's posting and delay yours until Wednesday. I hope you don't mind.

It goes without saying (but I'll say it anyway) that I'm sorry about what's happened over the last few nights. Very sorry indeed.

Love
IAN
XXX

SUNDAY 23 MARCH
EASTER DAY

EMERGENCY POSTING 2
Needless to say, I'm throughly ashamed of having to apologise yet again for the non-appearance of The Nightshift this morning. I have no idea what went wrong and probably won't be able to find out until Tuesday. Believe me, I feel as miffed as you do. Fingers crossed for tonight, huh?
Once again, my apologies.
IAN
X

FRIDAY 21 MARCH
GOOD FRIDAY

EMERGENCY POSTING!
As most of you seem to know already, this morning's Nightshift dropped off-air. According to Loz's blog comment, the programme had disappeared by 0150. I'm really sorry about this, especially as it means that you missed almost all of the first four chapters of Secrets. I'll see what I can do to rescue them, although frankly I don't hold out much hope. I have no idea why the programme vanished out of the airwaves but I promise I will ask Nigel, our trusty engineer, if he can find out. I just hope he doesn't discover that it was my fault!

Happy Easter!
Love
IAN
X

Sue and me in Weobley, Herefordshire

THURSDAY 20 MARCH
ST CUTHBERT’S DAY

THIS BLOG....
I’ve only just noticed that you’re ‘back-filling’ the comment space on the blog; the number of responses on 6 March especially just keeps going up and up - and I haven’t even managed to read them all yet. It’s amazing to ‘listen’ to you talking to each other and to think that my humble Nightshift was responsible for all this lovely digital chat and interested friendliness. I’m chuffed to bits that you’re getting to know each other so well. I just wish I could join in!

You know what’ll happen soon, don’t you? Someone will suggest that you all get together somewhere sometime and have a Truckshunters’ ‘Do’ - a ‘Shunt’. When it happens, please don’t forget to invite li’l ol’ me.

GILLY....
Hit Counters
Naturally, I too would love to know how many people read the truckshunter blog and there are mechanisms for doing just that. They're called Hit Counters. They’re usually free and there are several available which would count blog-viewers. Unfortunately, I’m a bit of a technophobe - that’s why my computer is a Mac and not a PC. I’ve looked at all the Hit Counters that would work with the blog, and they all require me to ‘add code’ to it. I haven’t the faintest idea what this means or how to do it. I asked for help in a previous posting and I’m afraid that, until it is forthcoming, we’ll just have to live in frustrated ignorance.

Audio on the blog
I know I gave a solemn undertaking to investigate how to import audio onto the blog and so far, I haven’t. I’m really sorry about this; it’s just a question of finding the time to do it - as well as my aforementioned fear of the technology involved. Again, any help anyone feels they can give me would be greatly appreciated.

Sue
Sue and I met in (we think) 1976 when we were working in Hackney Employment Office - part of the Civil Service, of course. She’s a lovely lady; kind, thoughtful, infectiously funny, articulate and loyal. Even though she has no internet connexion and so cannot hear The Nightshift or read this blog, she has contributed several off-beat items to both. Indeed, I returned from Hereford last week laden down with ideas and suggestions - including the new Where In The World quiz.

As you’ll know from my postings at the time, she was a great help to me last year when Nic died; indeed, his illness and death brought Sue and me closer together than we have been for many years. You’ll be hearing her voice again on the programme very soon.

By the way, I’ve told her all about my amazing truckshunters and she sends her warmest regards.

TRUCKSHUNTER POSTING
I’ve decided to treat Good Friday and Easter Monday as Bank Holidays so that I can spend a little more time with John and with my family this Easter. This means that the next blogposting will be on Tuesday 25 March - and it will have been written by Sid! I received his draft today and will post it next Tuesday. Thanks Sid.

CONTACT ME
Post comments on this blog or contact me in any one (or more) of these ways....
ian.robinson@bbc.co.uk
ianstuartrobinson@googlemail.com
text 07786 200954 (while the programme is on-air)
call (between about 0545 and 0630 Monday to Friday) 0191 232 6565
Ian Robinson, The Nightshift, BBC Radio Newcastle, Spital Tongues, Newcastle-upon-Tyne NE99 1RN

NOTE
Please bear in mind that the views expressed in this blog are my own and NOT the views of the BBC.

WEDNESDAY 19 MARCH

THE ORGAN-BUILDERS OF DILWYN
Sue and me went ‘church-bashing’ in Herefordshire and bumped into these lads at the parish church in Dilwyn. I took an interest because (amongst other reasons) Durham City is, of course, a historic centre of the trade. Richard (with the glasses) and Kev had spent a few weeks repairing and rebuilding the church organ and were rightly proud of their rare skills and handiwork. And, after watching them for half an hour or so, I realised why you don’t ‘make’ an organ - you ‘build’ it!

THE SILENT MAJORITY
I second the appeals other truckshunters have made in the last few days and weeks. I know perfectly well that there are a great many listeners and blogreaders out there who are keeping sheepishly quiet. (Yes, I know that should have been ‘there IS a great many....’ but it just doesn’t sound right.) So step forward, silent majority! Make yourselves known. Please? After all, I don’t bite - unless specifically asked to do so.

KEV: AN APPEAL
Kev - I think your word quiz is good and I'd like to use it in a future programme (even though I don't know the answers). Would you be so kind as to refrain from giving the answers? That way, we'll ALL be in the dark when the time comes!

THE TRUTH ABOUT THE BBC: III
Just to prove how complex and confusing my professional life can get.....

Today is Wednesday. After I finished the ‘live’ half-hour at the end of this morning’s Nightshift, I pre-recorded tomorrow’s programme. Later this afternoon I’ll be going back to the Pink Palace to pre-record chapters 5 to 8 of Secrets of the Sea, which will go out on Saturday morning’s programme. (I’ve already recorded chapters 1 to 4; you can hear them on Friday’s programme.)

When I’ve done that, I’ll be recording Friday’s programme later this afternoon. This week, that’s complicated by the fact that there’s no ‘live’ section of the show because Friday is a Bank Holiday; so I’ll need to record straight through to 0630.

Tomorrow - Thursday (St Cuthbert’s Day) - I’ll be pre-recording Saturday’s programme in the morning and Sunday’s in the afternoon. By that time, I’ll be unsure what day it is.

Although there’s no ‘live’ element to Good Friday’s programme, I’ll still need to go into the Pink Palace on Friday to pre-record Monday’s programme, which will also be without its ‘live’ section, Monday also being a Bank Holiday. Getting the picture?

The weekend will be studio-less, though. And, unless the weather picks up, it looks like there’s going to be no egg-rolling down Penshaw Hill, either!

Again, although there’s no ‘live’ half-hour on Monday, I’ll need to go into the Palace that day to pre-record Tuesday’s show - the content of which I am organising now!

I’m sitting here at home surrounded by sheafs (sheaves?) of newspaper and magazine cuttings, great wodges of emails, texts and letters - and wondering which programmes to slot them into and when.

I’m not complaining, you understand. Just explaining - even though you haven’t actually asked for an explanation and are now probably just as confused as I am.

But believe me; I wouldn’t change it for anything. I have the best job in the world and I know it!

TRUCKSHUNTER POSTING
Judging from your astonishigly creative - not to say effusive - outpourings over the last few weeks, I think the time has come for another Truckshunter Posting, don’t you? Perhaps the posting for next Tuesday, 25 March?

Who’s it going to be? Come on - don’t be shy.

CONTACT ME
Post comments on this blog or contact me in any one (or more) of these ways....
ian.robinson@bbc.co.uk
ianstuartrobinson@googlemail.com
text 07786 200954 (while the programme is on-air)
call (between about 0545 and 0630 Monday to Friday) 0191 232 6565
Ian Robinson, The Nightshift, BBC Radio Newcastle, Spital Tongues, Newcastle-upon-Tyne NE99 1RN

NOTE
Please bear in mind that the views expressed in this blog are my own and NOT the views of the BBC.

The 'cheese-girls' at Monklands

TUESDAY 18 MARCH

HEREFORD...AGAIN
Thanks for all your ‘Welcome Back’ emails, texts, blog-comments and calls. I guess I really am a lucky geezer; I’ve got a job that I genuinely look forward to getting back to. In fact, to be honest, the work I do is never far from my mind, even when I’m away. Every now and again while Sue and me were meandering along the lanes of Herefordshire last week, I kept thinking ‘I must remember to mention that in the blog’ whensoever my attention was caught by a particularly picturesque village, a tasty (and intoxicating) cider, a striking view or a curious local word or expression - of which there were many. So many, in fact, that I’m going to mention some of them on The Nightshift. (A plock, for example, is a ‘meadow’; how weird is that?)

Needless to say, I had a wonderful week; it’s a strikingly beautiful county with strikingly friendly people (as, I suspect, people are everywhere except in North Yorkshire). The picture above is of the ‘cheese girls’ at Monklands, near Leominster (which, for reasons that are far from obvious, is pronounced ‘Lemster’). I can strongly recommend any of the products displayed so enticingly in front of them. On the second day of my holiday I bought four wedges of cheese to bring home as gifts and had eaten all of them within 24 hours. That’s how good they are.

And I made a big discovery, too. Perry. I’m ashamed to say that, until last week, I had never knowingly tasted perry (which, for those benighted souls not ‘in the know’, is cider - but made with pears rather than apples). It’s lovely. In fact, it’s more than lovely. It’s absolutely delicious. It goes without saying that the bottles I bought as presents didn’t make it to the north-east either.

I came away with thoughts and memories of the area which I know I will keep forever....the splendid towns of Ludlow (actually a mile or two inside Shropshire) and Hay-on-Wye, which has more bookshops per head than any other town in the world and which can’t quite decide whether it’s in England or Wales...the countless thousands of wild daffodils that seemed to border almost every inch of road....the profusion of unspoilt ancient churches hidden amongst trees in the folds of low and gentle hills....the lilting accent of Marcher folk - half rural English and half musical Welsh....the incredible ‘tidiness’ of the countryside, with mile after mile of carefully shaped and clipped hedgerows....huge bunches of mistletoe hanging from bare-branched trees.....good, local real ale in almost infinite variety....

Some of the place-names were able to stop a toponymist like me in his tracks too. Within a few miles of Sue’s village we passed through Clehonger, Edvin Ralph, Stretton Sugwas, Moccas, Bridge Sollers, Wormelow Tump and Bredwardine. Awesome.

SECRETS OF THE SEA
I hope you don’t mind what I’ve decided to do with Secrets.

CONTACT ME
Post comments on this blog or contact me in any one (or more) of these ways....
ian.robinson@bbc.co.uk
ianstuartrobinson@googlemail.com
text 07786 200954 (while the programme is on-air)
call (between about 0545 and 0630 Monday to Friday) 0191 232 6565
Ian Robinson, The Nightshift, BBC Radio Newcastle, Spital Tongues, Newcastle-upon-Tyne NE99 1RN

NOTE
Please bear in mind that the views expressed in this blog are my own and NOT the views of the BBC.

MONDAY 17 MARCH

SECRETS OF THE SEA
My dear listeners and friends - you have excelled yourselves. You have achieved something which ( - and I must be honest here - ) I thought was utterly impossible. Between you, you have written what I am claiming as the world’s very first communal, collective Romantic short story. You have contained, developed and concluded the narrative in a deeply satisfying way. You have shown startling originality, wit, turn of phrase and story-telling ability......

Singling out individual contributions would be unfair - in fact, it would be impossible. I loved all of it - from letters falling repeatedly to the floor (along with several of the story's protagonists) through the ingenious in-character dialogue, the carefully-wrought descriptions of rugs and dresses, the appalling double-entendres and the lightning-strike plot twists to the final breathtaking denouement.

Hey - what can I say? You’ve stunned me into awed silence yet again. You are truly capable of anything; there’s nothing that truckshunters can’t do. No, really. You’d better believe it.

As you can imagine, I thought about you often while I was on holiday in Hereford ( - and, yes, Maureen, we’ll be hearing from Sue again very soon). I wondered how, as a group, you would react to my opening chapter of Secrets and how your different personalities and world-views could possibly be reflected in any story you tried to write as a group; a group, moreover, whose members - as far as I know - have never met except as blogsters.

The result is awesome. My head and heart are positively bursting with pride. I know I’ve said it before but I want you to know how privileged I feel to be broadcasting to such a disparate, problematic, funny and intensely affectionate audience.

After the infamous Seventieth Posting I wanted to shout your achievements from the rooftops of the Pink Palace. This time I’m going to. If you can, listen in to Wednesday and Thursday morning’s Nightshifts for news of exactly what I intend to do.

I’ll be telling you about my lovely Herefordshire holiday tomorrow. Right now, I think I’d better shut up before you all start feeling big-headed - or before you begin to suspect that I doth protest your wonderfulness too much!

Well done - all of you.

ST CUTHBERT'S DAY
Yes, I know I got it wrong when I announced that today is St Patrick's Day. Apparently, it was moved forward to last Saturday so as not to clash with Holy Week. However, despite what the Church hierarchy might say, I hereby declare that Thursday, 20 March, really is St Cuthbert's Day, Holy Week or no Holy Week. If you have any thoughts for the Big Day - or any special requests - please get in touch.

CONTACT ME
Post comments on this blog or contact me in any one (or more) of these ways....
ian.robinson@bbc.co.uk
ianstuartrobinson@googlemail.com
text 07786 200954 (while the programme is on-air)
call (between about 0545 and 0630 Monday to Friday) 0191 232 6565
Ian Robinson, The Nightshift, BBC Radio Newcastle, Spital Tongues, Newcastle-upon-Tyne NE99 1RN

NOTE
Please bear in mind that the views expressed in this blog are my own and NOT the views of the BBC.

FRIDAY 7 MARCH

SECRETS OF THE SEA
A new novel of passion, pride and desire
By Victoria Garesfield and Clara Vale

It begins.....
------------------------

It was exactly the kind of day you would expect for an occasion like this. Even though it was mid-June in what had, up till recently, been a warm and gentle summer, today the rain was falling heavily, as it had done since her father died a week ago. It splashed fiercely on the leaves of the fine English oaks which lined the drive to the Hall and it wantonly drenched the flower-beds so carefully planned and planted by old Crockford and his son in the Spring. Even the blooms seemed to be bowing their heads in disappointment under the torrent.

Fenella stood at the upper window watching the guests depart below. There was Blunden, the solicitor who had read her father’s will to the assembled guests. He had known Sir Michael since they were at prep school together and reading his oldest friend’s testament had not been easy; Blunden had almost wept several times, especially at the mention of the small disbursement that had been awarded to himself and his sister.

As he got into his car, he looked up at the window and saw Fenella there. He waved weakly and looked at her not just sadly but also, she thought, with an expression of warning or even dread on his face.

Nearby, standing at the terrace wall waiting for his car, stood her Uncle James. Fenella thought it strange that he was smiling on such a day. Then again, he might well smile. He had just learned of an inheritance that had taken everyone by surprise. The shocked gasps had been clearly audible when Blunden announced that her father had left James almost half of the entire estate. Both of the hunting lodges - as well as the fishing rights and Eastwood Farm - now belonged to Uncle James, a brother who, everyone thought, had barely been on speaking terms with Sir Michael for many years.

No wonder he was smiling, thought Fenella as she looked down from her window.

The Holmans - their nearest neighbours over at ‘The Big House’ - were clambering into their Bentley. As usual they seemed to be arguing about something. Fenella could not quite hear what Gregory Holman was saying to his wife, even though she opened the window slightly despite the rain. But the object of his bad-tempered tirade was obvious and surprised Fenella. For he was scowling darkly and looking directly over at young Crockford, who was standing by the willow copse, rake in hand, looking defiantly back at him.

Fenella wondered why the gardener’s son, now in his late 20s, could have been the focus of such irritability and obvious anger.

Glancing at young Crockford immediately reminded her of Dornford, her own brother, also in his late 20s by now. But where was he? Why had the family not heard from him for almost a year? Her mother and sister had both thought that Dornford’s disappearance on that hot July day last year had contributed to Sir Michael’s death; that he had died, at least partly, because of a broken heart at the ‘loss’ of his beloved only son.

At that moment, her mother walked unsteadily into the room. She looked pale and exhausted but there was also a touch of what Fenella could only describe as ‘panic’ on her face. She was carrying a letter in her hand.

‘Darling Fenny’ she said. ‘This arrived this morning. I think you should read it’.

----------------------------

THIS BLOG....
I am on leave until Monday 17 March, which is when the next posting is due. In the meantime, enjoy yourselves (!) and be nice to Nick Roberts. He says you always are!

CONTACT ME
Post comments on this blog or contact me in any one (or more) of these ways....
ian.robinson@bbc.co.uk
ianstuartrobinson@googlemail.com
text 07786 200954 (while the programme is on-air)
call (between about 0545 and 0630 Monday to Friday) 0191 232 6565
Ian Robinson, The Nightshift, BBC Radio Newcastle, Spital Tongues, Newcastle-upon-Tyne NE99 1RN

NOTE
Please bear in mind that the views expressed in this blog are my own and NOT the views of the BBC.

THURSDAY 6 MARCH

HISTORY IN THE MAKING
Yet another new trail is being blazed by The Nightshift and its listeners today. For the first time since the blog was started last November, it’s been written by a truckshunter rather than by the harmless drudge drafting this opening paragraph. The questionable honour of being the first in blog-posting history has - naturally - gone to Ratmaster Lawrence.

So....take a deep breath......

TRUCKSHUNTER BLOG: LAWRENCE
Hi and thank you Ian for allowing me to take the reins of this fine blog for this evening, although it’s taken quite a while to get writing as in many ways this is similar to the hardest set of articles I had to write for the Berwick Speedway programme of 1992 – no brief – freehand – just whatever I like and believe me that’s’ tough.

This is the first blog I’ve been involved with and I have to say it’s now become compulsive reading, with the vibrant gang on the comments really getting things moving.

We could do with a communal meeting over an Earl Grey some evening, or perhaps a glass or two of Old Peculiar, a very apt drink for Truckshunters as “Peculiar” as in the drink does not mean weird or odd, but in fact means “particular” as in a particularly quality ale, which it is, and as are the Truckshunters.

Real Ale is a passion of mine, but never over-indulged in. The ales of this land should be savoured, as Earl Grey tea. There was a time I was what the cask ale fans call a “ticker”, armed with my bulging booklet for carefully noting down each new ale tasted, and “ticked” off the list.

By the time I realised there was actually more pleasure in remembering which specific ales I adored most and going for repeat purchases of those I had ticked off over 2100 different ales, some of which were well departed from my pallet but had to be drunk as it was a new ale for my collection!

The brewers have a wild imagination at times with regard to naming their carefully constructed drinks although last week I had to take a deep breath at a local bar before saying to the bartender, “Can I have a “Long Willie” please young sir” that being the name of said ale. It was tasty but I tend to go for Dark Island or The Red McGregor from The Orkney Brewery if available although sometimes the more odd names catch the eye.

A brewery in Wyre Piddle brew several delicious ales with titles based on their home town hence bottles and pump clips adorned with titles such as “Piddle in the Hole” – a golfing ale, or “Piddle in the Snow” or “…in the Sun”, “…in the Wind” and “…in the Dark” . There’s also a beer called Miss Whiplash which turned my head – can’t think why.

So these days I’m not a ticker, but I adore my real ale it’s only a pity some ales can no longer be found, most notably “Nutcracker” and another delightful brew called “Malting’s Anniversary Ale” ahhh where for art thou now??

It’s a busy week for me, not least as Grosvenor, our mascot, the most handsome of black rats is still languishing in his “air de celebritaire” as I, his manservant as he now refers to me – cheers Ian – has to bow before the fine beast and shake his little paw before he’ll leap onto my shoulder for a hug adding to his “free range” time out of the cage with his cage-mates JD, JB and Caffery, his new found pal, Ziggy and Guy.

He can’t actually meet the other 7 as they are all girly rats and he’s …um… intact, shall we say and I’m not a ratty breeder although people have called me things sounding remarkably similar to that over the years. So he may pine to meet the girls, but he can’t and is very jealous of Guy, as Guy was castrated as a kitten (yes rat babies are called kittens – ah the irony of it all) so Guy lives happily with 7 girls!

All 13 need time out of the cage to run about and play and they all need their evening meals of smoked salmon and char-grilled chicken prepared every day so it takes time to treat them correctly.

Busy too as this weekend it’s the return of Speedway racing for a new season at Berwick and Newcastle and I’ve been embroiled in the sport up here for what is now 36 years – and that’s about 14,500 individual races seen, and I have been described as insane incidentally.

I write for both club’s match magazines – some 3000 words a week, D.J. and control their respective presentations, as well as being Berwick Bandit’s press officer and Newcastle Diamond’s Press Associate and update the club’s information and results hotlines, and with both clubs having their press and practice days in the last 7 days and both opening their doors this weekend it’s been manic and much midnight oil has been turned into carbon emissions in order to make sure each required deadline is achieved so that once Saturday night arrives the public will roll in and all will be well, then we all collapse in a heap and sigh a huge sigh of relief.

I’ll not use this blog to plug speedway by giving details of meeting times prices etc as that I would feel a misuse of this privileged position and I don’t want to abuse things at all.

Excuse me while I pick myself up off the floor… Ian you’ve just talked about some bloke with a sexy young woman coming towards him as he tightens his lug-nuts…. Excuse me and as for her spike of pleasure and the hardened scars left by the wolves vicious bites I’ll just not go there.

Ah, back to reality, this piano tuning lark seems to surprise people, but there are a host of pianos in the North East, and getting out and about, even in stormy weather is an unrivalled pleasure.

The job itself is rewarding enough by making a ghastly sounding bucket of out of key clangers sound musical again, yes that’s job satisfaction, but the real “secret” pleasure is having no two days the same and ending up in every part of my North East as driving around Warkworth Castle, down the bank and over the bridge on the way to Alnmouth (a beautiful town). Or into Durham City, Thirsk, Norton, Great Thirkleby, Whittingham, Hexham, Haltwhistle, Wall, Rowlands Gill and Riding Mill or Minsterachres with it’s lane lined with massive trees.

I could have, as 90% of my old school mates seem to have done, migrate off to every corner of the UK and indeed the World but I’m rooted to this wonderful little corner of Britain. I’ll never want to leave here, why would I want to? It has magnificent coastlines and rural areas, gorgeous cities and everything in between and usually all within no more than an hour away. The North East is a region to celebrate and be vociferously proud of , which is why I feel so lucky to be in a position to see so much of it every working day of my life…. Heaven in a Ford Escort… it really is.

Hope this is okay as a blog entry Ian, never having done one before I just hope it fits the bill…. Thanks for allowing me onto its hallowed pages.

CONTACT ME
Post comments on this blog or contact me in any one (or more) of these ways....
ian.robinson@bbc.co.uk
ianstuartrobinson@googlemail.com
text 07786 200954 (while the programme is on-air)
call (between about 0545 and 0630 Monday to Friday) 0191 232 6565
Ian Robinson, The Nightshift, BBC Radio Newcastle, Spital Tongues, Newcastle-upon-Tyne NE99 1RN

NOTE
Please bear in mind that the views expressed in this blog are my own and NOT the views of the BBC.

Oh B****r!

WEDNESDAY 5 MARCH

One of the things that’s struck me about the comments you’ve all got into the habit of leaving is how revealing they are and how wonderfully open you’ve been with each other. I suspect that you feel the same way as I do about this; it’s been good finally to be able to ‘fill in the background’ to the sketches we had of each other before. Colour has been added, too, and - to extend the metaphor beyond what is reasonable - frames have even been added as well. The only person who hasn’t shared any intimate secrets is......me.

So, in an effort to right this obvious wrong in the most self-effacing way ( - after all, I have no allotment, I can’t tune pianos and I’m useless as a teacher! - ) and inspired by Kev’s picture above - one of several he sent me, and all of which will appear in due course - I submit the following chastening account of....

MY MOST EMBARRASSING MOMENT
You’d think that working in the high-pressure atmosphere of live broadcasting would present ample opportunity for embarrassing goofs and unforgettable ineptitude. Indeed, the BBC Radio Newcastle vaults are bursting at the seams with examples of Ian Robinson forgetting people’s names, asking the wrong questions of the wrong people, spoonerising (‘flat-twinning’ springs to mind here), corpsing, fumbling and almost passing out through sheer unforgivable technical ignorance.

The problem, however, is that ‘outtake’ broadcasting has become the norm. Everyone is so used to listening and/or watching the pratfalls of tv and radio people that they’re almost not funny any more. So instead, I’m going to go back to the salad days of my working life. I was 23, I was in London and I was a bus driver.

I loved the job, as many bus drivers did and still do. I’d been a conductor for two years - remember them? - on the same route I was now driving; the 52. From Victoria up behind Buckingham Palace, then left into Knightsbridge. From there, along to the Royal Albert Hall and Kensington High Street. A right turn to Notting Hill Gate then up through inner north-west London via Ladbroke Grove and Kensal Rise to Willesden. After that, you’re in the suburbs; Dollis Hill, Neasden, Kingsbury and Burnt Oak. Finally, you reach Mill Hill, where open countryside is only a couple of miles away. And all in a sublimely-designed Routemaster bus; smooth, powerful, hardworking - and utterly reliable. Except for one unfortunate evening.....

Picture it. It’s New Year’s Eve. I’m driving the last bus of the night. We leave Victoria at about 2330, picking up all the bar staff and waiters who’ve had such a heavy day so that everyone else could enjoy themselves and celebrate the arrival of 1972. They’re tired, fed up, overworked and underpaid. And they want to get home as soon as they can.

As we pull up to the stop in Chamberlayne Road, I happen to notice that midnight has just arrived. A New Year. A time for rejoicing and celebrating - even if you’re just the passengers and crew of an anonymous London bus. So, in a spirit of good-humoured humanity worthy of the occasion, I stop the engine, climb down from my cab, walk round to the bus platform, board the bus and shout ‘Happy New Year everyone!’ to the throng of bedraggled, exhausted Londoners.

They responded in kind, bless them. ‘Happy New Year, driver! And thankyou!’ There was even a few hugs and kisses and handshakings. It was like something from a schmaltzy Christmas film, it really was.

Full of the milk of my own warmth and spontaneous goodwill, I walked back to the cab and climbed in.

The engine wouldn’t start.

I tried it a dozen times. It just wouldn’t start. I had a bus half-full of expectant travellers; it was after midnight; it was very cold; it was starting to rain; a replacement bus would take at least 30 minutes to arrive. We were stranded. Stuck. And all because of me and my ludicrous and naive belief that good cheer conquers all. Well, it doesn’t.

I apologised to the passengers as fulsomely as I could but nothing - absolutely NOTHING - could prevent me feeling extraordinarily stupid. I knew then that this was never going to be one of those occasions you look back at and smile. I’ve looked back at it many times and have NEVER smiled once at the memory of it.

The engineers took almost an hour to get a replacement bus to us. A few of the passengers gave up and set out to walk home - this was the last bus, remember. There was no community singing of Auld Lang Syne; just an increasingly forlorn and irritable gaggle of fatigued Londoners who made it perfectly obvious that they wished the bus driver anything BUT a Happy New Year.

I’m not kidding. It was awful.

CONTACT ME
Post comments on this blog or contact me in any one (or more) of these ways....
ian.robinson@bbc.co.uk
ianstuartrobinson@googlemail.com
text 07786 200954 (while the programme is on-air)
call (between about 0545 and 0630 Monday to Friday) 0191 232 6565
Ian Robinson, The Nightshift, BBC Radio Newcastle, Spital Tongues, Newcastle-upon-Tyne NE99 1RN

NOTE
Please bear in mind that the views expressed in this blog are my own and NOT the views of the BBC.

Ryan's Angel

TUESDAY 4 MARCH

ER...
Hello.

I’ve been reading and re-reading your comments over the last week or so - since the Seventieth Posting, in fact. I actually printed them all off to give myself some bedtime reading but they kept me awake - all 48 pages of them! I’m not kidding - they’re AWESOME. Naturally, there are way too many points made, stories told, memories recalled, jokes, inside information, puzzles and games, questions and answers for me to respond to; suffice to say that there wasn’t enough margin left on the paper for me to scribble my notes on.

Your comments on the last blog were just the same - including the useful recipe Gilly has given us for Mud Pies. And all because of a US State Congressman who couldn’t possibly ever have imagined where his annual marigold proposal would end up!

I think there are two lessons to be learned from your comments subsequent to 15 February.

Firstly, drafting a posting for the blog will be on the same basis as making comments on it is now - it will always be entirely voluntary (except, of course, for my shameless invitation to The Ratmaster to get the ball rolling). No-one will EVER be ‘put on the spot’ to make a contribution if they don’t want to, or feel they can’t. Nor will they EVER be criticised for the decision they make.

So relax, Maureen. You will be as dear to our hearts in the future as you are now - whatever you decide.

And to those who’ve already decided to give blogpost-drafting a whirl, remember - we aren’t a critical bunch anyway. All I’ve ever noticed pass between you all is warmth and welcome.

Secondly, I found your comments about time constraints interesting. I’m sorry to ‘harp on’ about it ( - why ‘harp on’? - ) but The Nightshift has no separate researcher, producer, writer and presenter. They’re all li’l ol’ me. At times, I have to admit that the blog has threatened to take over whole days of reading and responding. So I’m glad that you, too, are beginning to see how the good company - the wit, wisdom and fellowship - can easily start to encroach on time that should be spent elsewhere doing other things!!

I’m not complaining. I’m just ‘relieved’.

So please keep the ball rolling in whichever direction you like. I love it. But please remember to keep me informed so I can join in! In the meantime, this blog will continue to appear with - starting on Thursday - occasional contributions from truckshunters.

Yes, Lawrence, I’ve received your draft. Be prepared, everybody - and be sure to set aside plenty of reading and responding time on Thursday!

One final point. I know perfectly well that a lot more truckshunters than the Magnificent Seven have been enthralled by recent developments on the blog. So who are you? Where are you? Speak a little LOUDER. We want to hear from you!

Speaking of which.....

RYAN
I’ve had an email from Ryan, who popped up on the blog last week. Remember him? He’s the guy who’s moving to Alton (in Hampshire) in a few days time. I hope he doesn’t mind if I reproduce some of it here.

'I thought I'd drop you a quick email with a pic attached, as I seem to remember you were interested in seeing pics we, the listeners, had taken. Anyway, despite lots of dramatic pictures available of the Angel of the North, I managed to bag myself a wonderful snap of the angel, just as the northeast was being enveloped in the soft white mitten of a snowstorm. You can barely see the ginger-cake colour of the angel, as the storm picks up.

I have been meaning to email to thank you for your wonderful Christmas Day show. I hadn't had a very good 2007, and was simply going through the motions of Christmas, without really enjoying any part of it. I tuned in to BBC Radio Newcastle on Christmas Day, which is what I do most days, as I love the station ever since I lived in Newcastle. It's a reminder of happier times, and a great comfort on occasions. And of course, when I tuned in, your show was about to start. I spent the following hours, doing very little other than drinking tea and smiling, as you and the people up there, lifted my spirits and gave me a great start to the day.

I spent the rest of the day at my sister’s, with her loving family surrounding me, and I enjoyed every moment of it. The best Christmas for a very long time.'

Aren’t ‘the soft white mitten of a snowstorm’ and ‘the ginger-cake colour of the Angel’ lovely images? And isn’t the picture itself a stunner, too?!

CONTACT ME
Post comments on this blog or contact me in any one (or more) of these ways....
ian.robinson@bbc.co.uk
text 07786 200954 (while the programme is on-air)
call (between about 0545 and 0630 Monday to Friday) 0191 232 6565
Ian Robinson, The Nightshift, BBC Radio Newcastle, Spital Tongues, Newcastle-upon-Tyne NE99 1RN

NOTE
Please bear in mind that the views expressed in this blog are my own and NOT the views of the BBC.