A life of stuff

I succeeded in the getting a job bit. But it meant moving back in with my parents. Which sort of undermines the fact I’m finally salaried and have escaped the grips of studentdom and dependence on the parents.

So it’s with glee that I can announce I’ve moved out of the family home and in to my own love nest with my other half.

So far it’s been a happy time. We unfortunately had to do a (earlier than expected) meet the in-laws dinner, as his parents drove the whole way up Britain with a rent-a-van.

There have been a couple of arguments over who’s done the most unpacking/cleaning/important jobs in each room, but generally we’ve shared the burden.

But the main bone of contention I have is the amount of STUFF my other half has. It was my duty to unpack the box labelled ‘ kitchen’. One would expect pots, pans, plates and cutlery. We had those. We had them by the plenty. But we also had little silver canapé dishes, tiny little bowls presumably for detailed table arrangements, a variety of metal tankers with names and dates on them, little glass jam pots with cork lids (x4), enough kitchen roll to paper the walls in the kitchen, six ugly soup bowls and five tin openers. I mean, we like convenient living, but five tin openers is just unnecessary.

Then the other ‘stuff boxes’ (admittedly we all have them – the plastic boxes we fill with miscellaneous things we can’t bear to throw out). They filled up two whole massive storage cupboards. We have a table, four chairs, a wardrobe, various cameras from various eras, a turntable, records, camping equipment for 50 people, big rugs, small rugs, hairy rugs, smelly rugs, mouldy bed sheets… I could go on.

Really. What are two journalists with limited cash flow going to do with all this crap? So the mission is to a) sell it, b) take it to Oxfam or c) recycle it. Tin opener, anyone?

'The great snow break'

It's dark. It's cold. A flake of snow falls from the sky and settles gently on the pavement. A little girl gasps and looks up. There's more! It's snowing! And by god, it's settling! Suddenly, the whole street come out and bask in the white flecked glory. No one knows what to do! They've never seen this fluffy, cold, flaky substance before! Soon they're gathering it up and rolling into a ball in their fists, fresh white frost combined with murky particles from the street. they joyfully throw it at one another. A snowfight! The joy!

But no, it's not Africa. Unbelievably, these joyful idiots are in Britain. What's more, they're from the intelligence capital of Britain, the hub, our capital, London.

One would think the cockneys have never seen snow before.

The front page of every national paper shouted IT'S SNOWING! Like it's never happened before.

BBC news readers are huddled on busy roadsides, wrapped in winter coats ad outdoor gear fit for mountains. Stood in an inch of snow and declaring it's snowing but, unbelievably (!), the cars are still making it onto the roads.

Documentaries are made about a terribly icy driveway that was missed out by the gritters.

The tubes and buses stop running. Boris declares it congestion charge free day.

All this because of a bit of snow.

And up in Scotland, I'm at work, as usual, in the office. And like every other day of every other year in the month of February, it's snowing. I had to defrost the car as I always do and drive carefully on the way to work because the village has been missed out by the gritters, as it always is.

Everyone left a little earlier, because the buses were a little slower than usual dropping the kids off to school.

IRN described it as 'the great snow break'. It's only 'great' because London declared it to be. But you aren't fooling anyone up here.

It's snow. Get on with it.

Getting down with the locals (the vox populi)

One of the best bits about being a journalist is that you can apply yourself to any social situation and pretend to understand the locals. We work for people, because we provide news to people, therefore we must speak to people.

This is particularly true when we go out and do (dreaded) vox pops. Standing outside come hail, storm or snow, for as long as necessary to get enough audio clips for the next few bulletins, to ask any random Tom, Dick or Harry who walks past a slightly personal or stupid question may not sound like fun, but it's an important part of the job.

The vox populi gives a story depth, colour and flavour, but most of all it appeals with the listener. They can relate to it, and if they feature on it, they might get their friends and family to listen to it.

So, here's some of my all time favourites:

Asking men in the city centre of Glasgow “do you wear boxers or briefs?”'

Being told by a chav in Glasgow that I'm a “Fenian” because I clearly support Celtic if I work for Real Radio.

In Castleford after the regeneration of the town centre if they like it being told by a chav “You media lot are responsible for this, you've ruined our town for a bloody TV show.”

In Perth, in response to “Are gangs of children threatening?”, a very posh lady said, “well no, not where I'm from, the children are well behaved. I mean, it's really the lower classes that have to look out for that sort of thing.”

In Perth in response to “did you shop in the Woolworths store?”, a posh lady said “Ugh no, I would never shop in there, nobody does anymore.” followed by (with some nifty editing) “I do, I just spent 40 quid”.

And the all time most interesting 'down with the locals' vox pop experience: asking a lady and her boyfriend in Hamilton if they're worried that two murderers are being allowed to work at the football ground and getting the response, “well, he's been done for manslaughter, he killed his mate, and he's allowed to go wherever he wants. I don't see why they shouldn't.”

Never underestimate a small story

In a tiny little city like Perth, no local news story is ousted because it’s ‘too small’. That would be like the equivalent of a national station leaving out fillers like vox pops, showbiz stories or on a bad news day, stories about interesting weddings.

In fact, interesting wedding stories hit my lead story sometimes, and that can be on a good day.

Common stories for me to cover are missing people, the future of the City Hall, the duelling of the A9 and the plight of endangered wildlife in the area (e.g. squirrels, wildcats).

I have a list of contacts that I pester on a weekly basis to come in for a two-minute interview regarding something really mundane, like the closure of a shop or the state of the doors on a building in town.

My best stories have been pretty insignificant. Armed robberies, pensioners driving over dogs and my personal favourite (see previous blog) Kate Adie visits Perth.

When someone famous visits, it’s a good news day.

Next time you tune in to the radio, hear a story about a charity asking for donations, don’t tut and say “that’s not a news story!” because by god it is, when nothing else is happening.

At least I didn’t cover the story that featured on the front page of the local rag: ‘Woman gets parking ticket.’

A Long and short of it interview with: Kate Adie

If I happen to interview anyone of remarkable interest - which lets face it, doesn't happen too often in Perth - I will upload it on this here blog.

This interview is particularly interesting,
1/because it's with war correspondant, author and all-round amazing lady Kate Adie,
2/because she makes some very interesting remarks about journalism, and how she 'fell in' to the industry.
and
3/because whilst she's extremely admirable, she's also very scary...

Click here to listen

Let me know what you think.

Radio power

Two weeks into the launch of Perth FM 106.6, a bit of shmoozing and coverage on air, and myself, our sales exec. and our admin assistant were invited to the highty esteemed Perthshire Chamber of Commerce Business Awards 2008.

The night included a three course meal, followed by an awards ceremony to celebrate the success of businesses in the shire, but most importantly, a fantastic place to network.

In one place we had the Lord provost, councillors, MSP's, MPs, staff of most of the leading businesses in town (or is it city?!), and they were all pissed. Brilliant.

We managed to get a free year's membership to the Chamber of Commerce, a promise from the Provost that we'll be switching on the christmas lights next year (taking it away from the competition), good contacts with the local politicians and the possibility of a free landrover safari.

Go the power of radio and contra deals!

First job and reality...

Got me first job.

I'm a reporter at a brand new local station, Perth FM 106.6. After working there for only one week, I've realised a few things about University newsdays:
1/ We went to HUMUNGOUS lengths to get a 20 second audio clip, which no one has time time to do in the real world.
2/ We took three hours to edit something which really only takes about 30 seconds.
3/ Clips dont have to be perfect, a few umms and aahs go unnoticed.
4/ Sheffield is an AMAZING news patch. Barnsley, Peniston and Rotherham are all pretty good compared to Perth.
5/ About 20 of us did one persons job.
6/ No one actually listens to local radio news anyway, apart from the newsreaders mum and a few of her friends.

Now, lets give everyone a little run down of my day. I arrive for 9am. I usually get someone to come to the studio for an interview, and half the time I cant get rid of them till 9.30am. Then I have half an hour to find three stories for the morning (Tayside police/NHS press releases/a few vox pops I took the day before...). I have to write the bulletin, record it, fart about with the settings, edit my clips into it on a waveform, mix it down, then add financial news plus jingles and sports news plus jingles. All in 30 minutes.

This then happens on the hour every hour, but in the meantime, I have to prepare bulletins for the rest of the week, organise interviews, and on a Friday I go to the football stadium, wait for the football manager for half an hour, then get a 3 minute interview with him.

It's VERY stressful, long hours, and I'm on minimum wage.

But that's what we all knew anyway, didn't we?