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.
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.
12 comments:
Ian that was brilliant. I bet you blamed yourself for months, if not years. Now which one should I relate in return...there have been so many.
ian...?
first of all i laughed..
which bit..? the fumbling and passing out..but thats just me..
lovely that you joined in with a memory i enjoyed reading all about it, its catching, like the flu.
Ive got it really very bad,
i may need therapy......
the new years eve "stunt",
i feel for you but theres many a worse thing i can assure you,
so don,t let it worry you any longer.
these days you,d probably be attacked which is a horribly depressing thought but very true,
another thing...!
I honestly thought after your last new years spooky happening that you were going to say..
a man clad in black, who didnt look back, sorry, carried away,.
a perfect stranger walked out of the mist, produced 5 loaves, 4 fishes.. touched the back of the bus and miracle of xmas miracles it started by itself..
lovely picture of the ship..
bye 1 of the mag 7..
Hi All, hope everyone's well, hope you don't mind if I just 'pop' on now and again as time and rambling thoughts occur.
I read everything with great interest, will try to keep in touch as much as possible. Thanks Ian for your kind words.
Ian, another of your stories, wonderful! It's you at your very best. I love to read those lovely tales of yours, when does the book come out? I imagined you, like James Stewart in Wonderful Life with the snow bleaching down around you all. You could have kept them entertained with your wonderful stories, you wouldn't hae heard a peep out of them! Thinking this could be a topic for the blog, most embarrassing moments....maybe we'll keep that for next time you leave us!
Thanks for using my idea of lesser known tracks from well known artists (There's a catchy title!) Hope it catches on, I've got a few up my sleeve.
Looking forward to blog from 'The Ratmeister' later today. Love to all.
hiya everyone...i,m waiting patiently for the new post.......zzzzzz
what time will it be arriving...?
maureen ? embarrassing moments,
me? many ....
Ive looked again at the pic of "dougal" the highland toffee cow, i could actually feel the cold, wet, slippery,smooth,
yet uneven wall, under my hands..
this is the power of imagination,
i love a photograph..
maybe in time i could improve on the explanatorys,
but....
i,m not holding my breath.
and i,m sitting here as if tomorrow would do...
I heard the first hour of last nights t.s. under the weather so dropped off earlier than normal..
wish i could tape the whole show...i,m going to try..
there must be some way cos its a crying shame.
bye..1 of the mag 7
Hi
Ian, 'not a good teacher'? Places are crying out for people with Communication Skills, something you have in spades.
There seems to be a lack in the Brahm's and Lizst/Anagrams so these are all places.
Name them and the link between these them
A SOUL PINES
VIA A BLOND
OLD AND VAIN
SEATS LADS ETC
VAN OR CAR
IS BAD WORLD
SO SUES DEATH
BLOWS SUNNY ON SEA
UNUSED GEM
ME USED GUN
SUE NO FORTS
TEA AGENTS
ooh kev anagrams and me don,t mix but im gonna try to learn myself. this lot will keep me going for a while...thanks
ive given up already ....
i just see nothing..
tried with tea agents..
i,ll try later but no doubt there,ll be an answer hopefully very soon,
I think practise makes perfect..
KEV..
A good puzzle BUT before I can use it on-air (and I DO intend to) you will need to give us a clue. Are they all local places? English? Or maybe a clue to the link? GO ON!!!
Ian,
Since you asked so nicely, none of these places is more than 73 miles from the Pink Palace.
hiya ive taken advice from a dear t.s. ive put each letter onto a piece of paper and im in the process of shuffling them about.
im determined to get one right ..
im on with tea agents..
i may be some time...
i havent been yon side of durham never mind 73 miles away..
but that makes no difference..
hello all truckshunters ,
on a different note. on thursday morning ie 24.00 hr onover i was nearly dead to all acivities but idid hear the word "cuthbert" and that took me back to my school day in the "1969 ish times" when i was at Amble secondary modern school.
i seem to remember that there was a very strong bond from each of the 4 houses to the various saints.
oswald= yellow
cuthbert= green
aiden i think was red
and i think bede was blue
but these last 2 could be the other way around.
i was in cuthbert house and ended up looking after the "ducks" to avoid "assembly" wow was that a good chore.
these are in the days when i used to dip the odd maggot / cadiss-grub
in the river coquet and not to mention all manner of imitation "flies"
yet an other reason for me to visit the "pink pallace" also the home of
"railton howes"
and our headmaster
"Sir Ian of the Truckshunters"
i am sue there is a ryham in there somwhere !
IF ONLY I COULD ****? LIKE A TRUCKSHUNTER should/could.
the mind boggles (perhaps even like a rat)
but hey no disrespect to our mascot .
Answers with examples:
1. dust (the aircraft dusted the fields; Have you dusted this room?).
2. blessed (Blessed are the meek; I’m blessed if I will!).
3. public (public building; public school).
4. bad (That was a bad move; He’s a real bad singer).
5. trim (She trimmed the dress with lace; Trim the pastry round the edge).
6. draw (curtains).
7. trip (She tripped across the fields; He tripped over the carpet).
8. cleave (‘Shall a man cleave unto his wife?’ Genesis 2; You can cleave the log in two with an axe).
9. oversight (She has the oversight of the works; My failure to check the meter was simply an oversight).
10. left (There is one cake left; She has just left).
11. fast (a fast horse runs; a fast colour does not run).
12. mad or wild.
13. think better of (I think better of him after he saved the cat; I have thought better of telling my boss he’s a fool).
14. sanction (The king gave his sanction; They imposed sanctions on the warring parties).
15. industrial action.
16. no question (There is no question that he is stupid; There’s no question of my giving in).
17. quantum leap (In physics, this name means a sudden change in an atom or molecule; in general use it means a huge change).
18. wind up (The company was wound up; The clock started when I wound it up).
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