Jackanory
In the summer of 1975, the BBC TV children's programme Jackanory ran a writing competition. Fifteen thousand entries were received, and my story - about the retailers HHH Todd & Co and what happened when they ran out of their bestselling product - was one of the winners.
The winning stories and poems were broadcast during one week in December 1975. My story was read by Kenneth Williams.
It was very exciting. But with no VCR at home, no recording was made - just a very poor quality sound recording on a cassette tape straight from the TV set. (Illegally. Although the cassette police never found out.)
I remember it though: Kenneth Williams sits in the back of a Rolls Royce. An ornate telephone rings, he answers, and then starts telling the story.
Years later, a boyfriend* contacted the BBC's archives to see if a copy could be obtained, but the answer was that those tapes had long been recorded over, as was common at the time. It was kind of him though - perhaps the kindest thing he ever did for me, given that this same boyfriend also thought the best birthday present he could possibly buy me was an unasked-for-and-not-needed laundry basket.
Sadly, not one big enough in which to hide the corpse ...
*not the one who used to sing in his sleep. I know: admitting to at least two boyfriends. I've led a shocking life.
The winning stories and poems were broadcast during one week in December 1975. My story was read by Kenneth Williams.
It was very exciting. But with no VCR at home, no recording was made - just a very poor quality sound recording on a cassette tape straight from the TV set. (Illegally. Although the cassette police never found out.)
I remember it though: Kenneth Williams sits in the back of a Rolls Royce. An ornate telephone rings, he answers, and then starts telling the story.
Years later, a boyfriend* contacted the BBC's archives to see if a copy could be obtained, but the answer was that those tapes had long been recorded over, as was common at the time. It was kind of him though - perhaps the kindest thing he ever did for me, given that this same boyfriend also thought the best birthday present he could possibly buy me was an unasked-for-and-not-needed laundry basket.
Sadly, not one big enough in which to hide the corpse ...
*not the one who used to sing in his sleep. I know: admitting to at least two boyfriends. I've led a shocking life.
