The story of television – Chapter one — 8 Comments

  1. We got our first TV in (or about) 1957ish. I was elected to be what later was known as the remote control. 

    • You were also in charge of the horizontal and vertical hold buttons?  Very important in those days.

  2. Did you get Harlech or TWW? 

    The old VHF signal was much more flexible than the UHF 625 line signal. Manipulation of a coat hanger would allow us to get HTV West (Channel 10) and HTV Wales (Channel 7), Westward (Channel 9) and, occasionally, Southern (Channel 11)

    • Harlech.  The signal was so strong it could be picked up on a screwdriver poked into the aerial socket.  BBC was iffy at best and RTE was too strong and we just picked up multiple reflections off the local mountains.

  3. In my young youth the only thing I wanted to watch was Popeye on an aunt and uncle's 9 inch (diagonal) screen.

    Later it was Top of The Pops with the floor crawling camera man and Pans People.

    Other than that some radio and books. Oh, and beer and girls, in any order, simultaneously when possible.

    Now in my dotage it is radio and books again. And whisky.

    Girls? Nah.

    • Who can forget Pan's People?!  I used to dream of Babs.  I never forgave Robert Powell for marrying her.

  4. When I was just a nipper we would always watch the wrestling on a Saturday. It was always rather theatrical, with a regular villain (eg Mick McManus) for the audience to boo at noisily, The venue  would be packed with enthusiastic fans eager to see the "villain" vanquished, and a triumphant victory for their hero. It was like the panto, and the best part of the whole performance would be when some avenging angel of an old biddy in the audience would climb into the ring with a rolled up brolly, and proceed to knock nine bells of hell out of McManus, to the delight of the crowd. And that was the very tableau millions of us tuned in to see….

    • Ah the memories!  Mick McManus, Giant Haystacks, Big Daddy?  It was pure showmanship and always worth a laugh.  It's the only sport my Dad and I used to watch.  Neither of us had any interest in any other sport, but four o'clock of a Saturday was cast in stone.

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