Television
My new set
Wendy Cope
This week I have been quite excited about television because, thanks to the generosity of The Spectator, my new set arrived last Thursday. I chose a dark grey portable with a squared screen. Judging by the placards in the shop, a squared screen is a desirable thing to have, ( probably because it looks more modern. The new set certainly looks neater and more attractive than the old one and I derive great pleasure from sitting and gazing at it. It is at its best, I think, when it is switched off — pure, austere and peaceful. But even when it is switched on, it is an improve- ment. The picture is much better and there are more things to play with. If you press the button marked CH DISP, a big green number comes up on the screen, telling you which channel you are watching. Another button instructs the television to switch itself off in half an hour's time. This could come in useful in some circum- stances, though I am so far unable to imagine what those circumstances might be.
The most helpful thing is being able to control the volume from one's armchair. I have been meaning for some time to write about the problem of volume on television. One minute the music is so loud that it has to be turned down for the sake of the neighbours; the next minute you are up again because you can't hear what people are saying. With remote control it is much easier — instead of getting up and walking across the room, it is necessary only to search under the newspapers and other junk for the little black unit and then put on your reading glasses so you can see which button to press.
Until the novelty begins to wear off, it is difficult to concentrate on the program- mes. Channel-hopping on Friday night, I came across the rock singer Patti Smith being interviewed on Wired (Channel 4). After her marriage, she took a nine-year sabbatical during which 'we both pursued our personal studies'. These years were `very filled with a lot of building'. Thank you, Patti, that's enough. Over to BBC 2, where they were showing a repeat of The Family, the Seventies documentary about the Wilkinses of Reading. My curiosity was sufficiently aroused to make me want to see Saturday's programme, in which Mar- garet Wilkins talked to producer Paul Watson about what's happened to every- body 15 years later and how she feels about the series now. I've always regarded the makers of these programmes as villains, who persuaded innocent members of the public to do something very unwise. But Margaret Wilkins seemed surprisingly well-disposed towards Paul Watson, and Paul Watson seemed disarmingly nice. When she said they should have asked for more money, he smiled very sweetly in- deed. When she expressed the view that, quite frankly Paul, what this country needs is for them to bring back hanging and flogging, he looked just a little bit pained.
In Arts Festival '88 (ITV) Peter Blake admired a painting that he had originally taken to be a portrait of a boxer but later recognised as a chair. Interviewer Pauline Black described Neil Fletcher as a chair but he was later identified, correctly, as Leader of the ILEA. The festival is jointly orga- nised by LWT and ILEA. Young people compete in four categories — music, writ- ing, dance and visual arts. It seemed illogical that individuals were allowed to enter pieces of writing but painters could only compete as part of a school group. And it was annoying that two of the four music finalists were mediocre pop groups. What about all the school choirs, orches- tras and recorder consorts? The ILEA, believe it or not, does have these things and some of them are very good. Fortu- nately, neither of the pop groups won. The music prize went to an avant-garde crea- tion involving a woodblock tapped with a hammer, a chain in a bucket, and a pianist who played mighty clusters of notes with his entire forearm. You are probably ex- pecting me to sneer at this but, as a matter of fact, it is just the kind of work I was keen on in my teaching days and I thought it was great.
'Would you bless our shacking-up?'
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