A vital sign that radio is so much more vibrant these days than tired old TV is the way the networks are rebranding themselves, extending their range, developing their programme base. On Radio 1 on Monday night Keeping Mum took on the subject of young adult carers in a feature that could easily have been on Radio 4. Greg James, the Radio 1 DJ, hosted, but he was soon overshadowed by his young co-presenter, Pippa Haynes, who last year was recognised as a Radio 1 Teen Hero in a celebrity bash at Wembley Arena. Pippa, now 18, looks after her mother, who has spinal injuries, and her mentally ill sister, and has done since she was four. ‘Why is there no support?’ she asks, for the much more than 300,000 teenagers who look after family members while struggling to study at school (often also working at part-time jobs to pay the bills). ‘The local councils and the government would be in a hell of a mess if they stopped helping out,’ getting disabled parents or siblings up in the morning, washing them, feeding them, shopping, cleaning, keeping the household together.
Pippa spoke so simply about what needs to be done, yet so passionately, so articulately, with not a single ‘yer know’ to distort her message. ‘The government needs to talk to young people to find out what support they need,’ she says. Support for young people like Carina, who’s been a carer since her younger sister was born. Her mother descended into what sounds like post-natal depression and at the age of five Carina was feeding and changing a real live baby, not playing with dolls. No one outside the home knew what she was doing every day. ‘Mum’s not got a disability that people can see,’ says Carina. Her mother was also scared that her daughters would be taken away from her if she applied to social services for help, so the family kept it to themselves. Carina, now in her twenties, says she’s ‘still at the same place as when I left school’. She’s still living at home, still without a boyfriend, while watching her schoolfriends leaving and getting jobs, becoming free and independent. ‘That’s horrible.’
But she was quite matter-of-fact about it. Not self-pitying, or emotional. Without exception, this ‘hidden and neglected army’ of carers were so impressive; not a tissue needed, or wanted, by any of them as they talked frankly about how they coped. Best of all, there was no thumping music in the mix. Greg James (in a programme produced by David Howard) let these young people speak for themselves, direct to mike, no commentary required.
While Thought for the Day on Radio 4 is constantly under threat of being axed for being ‘too religious’ (and after listening to Anne Atkins and Giles Fraser last week, I’m beginning to think the slot does need to go, or at least be given a radical makeover), on Radio 2 the commitment to religious broadcasting as a significant part of the daily morning schedule has been given headline status. In August it launched a ‘talent contest’ to find ‘a new inspirational speaker’ for its early-morning Pause for Thought talks.
On Sunday night, Kiera Phyo was chosen as the winner by an audience at the Cheltenham Festival of Literature, who listened to the shortlisted speakers and picked their favourite. Kiera Phyo’s task was to deliver in just a couple of minutes (or 300 words max) a ‘religious reflection’ that was meaningful, wide-ranging and thought-provoking. No easy task. The trick is to bring your listening audience into your thoughts, not state obvious truths or declare definite beliefs. In such a short time, and first thing in the morning, all you can hope to do is stimulate the grey cells to think beyond the immediate (that bowl of cornflakes or whether to take an umbrella), not deliver a sermon.
Bill Nighy has been reading the latest Book at Bedtime on Radio 4. Summer Lies is taken from a new book of short stories by Bernhard Schlink, who became known in this country after the publication of his novel The Reader. I didn’t intend to listen because although I love Nighy’s voice, and his comic timing, he’s often too mannered, too distinctive to be a great reader of books on air. But I caught the first episode on Monday night and was hooked. For once, Nighy has played down his personality, talking deadpan, no drawl, no arched eyebrows, allowing the character of the narrator in the first story to bear down on the listener. He’s so matter-of-fact, so clinical, so devoid of some human quality that’s necessary for love to flourish. He’s a playwright who’s got a girlfriend but still enjoys the odd fling. The girlfriend, though, is not happy. She knows he’s hiding something. Should he admit to his one-night stand? ‘But that wouldn’t end it.’
The language was simple, almost banal, yet the undercurrents of the story, and the resonance of Nighy’s voice, linger in the mind. Did he love her? Was she at fault? Is truth always preferable to a small and convenient lie?
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