I’m starting a course tonight in radio broadcasting and engineering (or whatever you call the dialling of knobs and pressing of switches to make sounds come out of the trannie).
It’s a tad exciting, especially when I had forgotten my commitment in one of those, gee, that sounds great, I’m up for it moments earlier in the year. Courses are panelled at the kind of short and casual notice that makes my plan-everything-to-the-nth-degree gene twitch just a little. I don’t even know if they want money; I don’t have any so perhaps I can dust the dials to pay my way.
It’s also a tad stressful because anything that runs on electricity and technology tends to die when I start fiddling. Let’s see: the blog has been destroyed twice, I lost a stack of work e-mails last week and they’re not in the deleted box so they could be missing in inaction anywhere, the Bluetooth thingy on the laptop doesn’t talk to me any more and there’s that day I logged in and brought down an entire network without even trying. These talking on the radio people are the type who keep organisations running on goodwill and magic and I’m not sure they can afford to take me in.
I have a face for radio but a voice for mime, so I doubt anything will come of it apart from learning something interesting. And I’m currently obsessed with Balkan-inspired hip hop beats and the other five people in the country who share this obsession won’t be in frequency range.
Please don’t let me break anything.
Crank-o-meter: good evening and welcome to the cranky hour
Crankypants on the airwaves! Love it!
My little bubble was burst when the policy governing community broadcasting was laid down: non-secular, non-political, no swear bear words and don’t get sued. If I make it to the airwaves, I’ll be playing music
.
Everything is very old and scary looking and I fear I will break things.