Kate Chisholm

So why are we all becoming radio addicts, listening to an ever-greater variety of stations for more minutes each day? Could it be a yearning for something simpler, more direct, less tricksy than the constant visual stimuli that persist in assaulting us wherever we are, via the internet, TV, DVD and cinema? It’s the immediacy and the fact that you don’t have to wait those endless seconds while the wretched machine boots itself up, ready to perform, which make radio so much more appealing. With a soon-to-be-abandoned analogue set (though not, alas, my smart new digital boxes) all you have to do is press your preset button and be taken straightway, between heartbeats, to another dimension of experience.

‘I wish I knew,’ said the doctor in a rare moment of candour when asked, ‘What do you do with children who don’t want to take the tablets? ‘I wish I knew,’ said the doctor in a rare moment of candour when asked, ‘What do you do with children who don’t want to take the tablets?’ He was talking about Tanya, an HIV-positive teenager who was refusing to take the life-giving anti-viral drugs he had recommended. She’d been born with HIV, her mother had died of Aids when she was still a baby, and she’d been raised by an aunt in ignorance of why she was always falling ill with chest infections. No one in the family wanted her to know. Can Tanya be treated against her family’s wishes? Should she be told against their wishes?

The Proms are back, hoorah, and along with them the nightly treat on Radio 3 of interval talks: those 20-minute sessions of directed chat, either through an interview or often just one person speaking about an idea, a memory, a transformative experience. It’s the perfect radio format: long enough to have some real content but not too long to permit the invasion of those distracting thoughts that swirl around like angry bluebottles, waiting for the right moment to settle and take over your mind. On TV such few precious minutes would be gone in a flish-flash of camera angles and tricksy music; on radio you can be taken right inside a person’s head.

We should be worried. The announcement that BBC 6 Music is going to be saved from the cost-cutter’s axe may sound like a victory for Everyman, as opposed to the mindlessness of the Jobsworths in Finance. We should be worried. The announcement that BBC 6 Music is going to be saved from the cost-cutter’s axe may sound like a victory for Everyman, as opposed to the mindlessness of the Jobsworths in Finance. But the money to keep Lauren and her team going will have to come from somewhere, and the most likely target, as ever, will be those departments whose budgeting can’t be accounted for in noughts and crosses. Will there be enough money in the pot to fund the ambition of series like The History of the World...?

It was such a shock. At first I couldn’t understand what was going on. Why were they all talking about Sid as if he was in the past? It was such a shock. At first I couldn’t understand what was going on. Why were they all talking about Sid as if he was in the past? I’d only been away for a few days. Surely nothing really major could have happened in Ambridge in the meantime? And especially not to Sid, who as far as I knew was safely ensconced in New Zealand on the trip of a lifetime to meet his new grandson. I listened to the next episode and still had no clue. A party for Sid? But he’s not around. Jolene in tears? But she’s usually such a toughie. A very nasty trick has been played on us by the scriptwriters.

‘Do you remember listening to the radio for the very first time?’ asked David Hendy at the beginning of his thought-provoking series of late-night essays on Radio 3 (which you should still be able to catch on Listen Again). ‘Do you remember listening to the radio for the very first time?’ asked David Hendy at the beginning of his thought-provoking series of late-night essays on Radio 3 (which you should still be able to catch on Listen Again). His question was not intended to conjure up memories like my own glimpse back to the draughty kitchen of the vicarage where I grew up when Uncle Mac announced on Children’s Favourites my brother’s request for ‘Greensleeves’.

Simon Cowell spent the weekend bemoaning Britain’s lack of talent. Simon Cowell spent the weekend bemoaning Britain’s lack of talent. He obviously doesn’t listen to Radio 4. As Cowell should know, there are other kinds of talent, more useful in these gloomy economic times and more durable, which have no requirement to cake on tubloads of fake tan and sing along to Celine (or Whitney). What about our engineers and R&D cohorts, for example? We also have more than our fair share of extraordinary scientists, thinkers and communicators of big ideas.

I might have to eat my hat, having declared not so long ago that BBC 6 Music would not be much missed if it were cut from the schedules. Recent audience figures from Rajar (Radio Joint Audience Research) have revealed a huge jump in listeners in fewer than three months from just over 600,000 to one million and rising. It’s an astonishing vote of confidence for the station, not to say a convincing majority, won by the ardent campaigning of its DJs and followers, including our own Marcus Berkmann and a cohort of Spectator bloggers. A coalition with Five Extra or even One Extra should not now be necessary. Coincidentally, the station’s most celebrated DJ, Jarvis Cocker, in the same week won a coveted Sony Award as the Rising Star of the radio world.

It’s like entering another country, listening in to the BBC’s World Service, and such a relief to escape for a while the interminable chattering about what’s going to happen in Westminster. It’s like entering another country, listening in to the BBC’s World Service, and such a relief to escape for a while the interminable chattering about what’s going to happen in Westminster. On the half-hourly news bulletins, the Eurozone, elections in the Philippines, a mass grave in Serbia take the lead, while our very own British muddle almost disappears. On The Strand this week, the daily arts programme, Harriet Gilbert introduced us to the new Writer in Residence at Bush House, the World Service’s centre of operations in the heart of London.

It sounded as if a World Heavyweight Championship was just about to begin. The roaring mob. The pent-up energy. The buzzing excitement at the prospect of an upset, a defeat, a knockout blow. The tension was palpable, seeping through my study, as the contenders squared up to each other for Round Two. I don’t have Sky and wanted to experience The Prime Ministerial Debate live, as it was happening, rather than wait up until 11.30 last Thursday night to watch it on BBC2, so I had no alternative but to listen to Gordon, Dave and Nick thrashing it out on Radio 4 instead of watching them on screen. I must admit I wasn’t looking forward to it.

After listening to an advance copy of tonight’s Archive on 4 I’m almost beginning to look forward to the general election of 2010. After listening to an advance copy of tonight’s Archive on 4 I’m almost beginning to look forward to the general election of 2010. A Night to Remember looks back over 60 years of Election Night Specials, guided by the curiously comforting voice of Anthony Howard, whose reflections and rummaging through the archives make dusty, devious politics begin to sound quite exciting. His programme is a useful reminder that what happens on the night of 6 May might actually make a difference.